Growing Up Autobot
by Frog-Lizard
Summary: Lizard: Jazz is newly orphaned, but you've never seen a happier sparkling. Join him and his BEST friends as they experience joys, adventures and adversity in their journey to become the greatest Autobot Officers of all time. Ch9 First Words.
1. Intro Part 1

_Lizard: ...:)_

_This story makes me smile. It is fun. Not what I usually write at all. (As some of you already know) But for John's Sake it's _**sparklings**_!! It must be done!!_

_Now, I must say a few things before we begin. First, there will be OCs. I'm sorry, but that's the only way I can make this particulare story work. After all, _someone_ has to watch the little Pit-spawns. Granted, they aren't all that qualified, but....yeah. Second: this is mostly just a series of oneshots with some underlying plot in there. Things will progress at times, and certain chapters tie in with others. And third: This story does not contain slash nor any intentional implications of slash. If it looks like slash, it's not. If you want it to be slash...well fine, I won't stop you from that. And finally my sister, Frog is helping me write this. She's taking classes in Early Childhood Developement and such, so she helps me come up with little kid things to do. That's right, I'm doing _research_._

_Spelling/Grammatical errors are my fault. And Microsofts for it's lousy spell check._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or any related material. That belongs to Hasbro and...other people. Aqualus, Everglade, Thunderhead, Doppelganger and Riflet are mine though, and you shan't take them._

* * *

"You called, Prime?" a deep, booming voice rumbled into the large loading bay of the Autobot flagship, the _Retra_.

Aqualus Prime turned to look with a quirked optic ridge at his three officers. Everglade, the second in command and tactician, strode in at the front, as always, her lavender and white frame a tiny, colorful contrast to her relatively dull companions. Just behind and to her and to her right was the Special Ops Head Doppelganger, a looming black figure with abnormally long, lanky arms, his optics glowing an odd purple color. Finally at the back was the enormous bronze mech, dwarfing the two smaller officers, and the owner of the basso voice. Thunderhead, weapons specialist and TIC.

"Yes," the Prime affirmed, carefully keeping his servos hidden behind his back, "It seems we have a minor…infiltration."

Though subtle, they all reacted instantly; Thunderhead's arms shifted to a more convenient position for the use of his canons, Everglade's optics flickered slightly as she started running scenarios, and Doppelganger…didn't visibly react, but the faint tickle of widespread scans confirmed he was paying attention.

"Please elaborate sir," Everglade urged.

Doppelganger's head tilted back minutely and the scanning stopped. He knew.

Aqualus was now fighting valiantly to keep a straight face, "Well this bay was being patrolled, when Lilt spotted our stowaway."

Everglade frowned, "I'm afraid I don't understand. Have you apprehended the infiltrator?"

He tilted his head back and forth as though indecision, "You could say that."

With that comment the grin he had been fighting arose victorious, and he lifted a large blue hand from which dangled a tiny bundle.

There was a moment as Thunderhead and Everglade's processors skid to a halt, rebooted, and changed directions. Doppelganger simply leaned back, staring dully at the tiny, wide-opticed sparkling Aqualus was holding. It was the smallest creature any of them had seen by far, with enormous optics staring in fascination at a piece of metal, a lock from one of the crates it looked like. Not even noticing the attention being paid him, the tiny mechling promptly opened his lip components wide and stuffed the entire object into his mouth.

It was then that the mech and femme caught up. Everglade's ever professional mask melted and she trilled in delight, drawing her arms up excitedly over her chest, fisted hands held just below her chin. Thunderhead bust out in his deep, booming laughter. This caught the tiny sparkling's attention and he looked up in surprise. At first Aqualus was afraid the two monstrous mechs would frighten such a tiny 'bot, but those fears were laid almost immediately to rest when the little one dropped the lock and squealed ecstatically, waving his arms and legs frantically as though he was trying to run and greet a long lost friend.

The Prime burst out laughing, "I think he's looking at you, 'Ganger."

Doppelganger contorted his faceplates in disgust, "More likely the femme."

Not taking her optics off the bundle of absolute cuteness, Everglade swung an arm back to elbow him in the lower chassis, eliciting a small grunt and annoyed glare.

Aqualus shook his head, still grinning, "Walk over there."

The tall mech scowled but sidled in the direction indicated. Much to everyone's surprise (and his dismay) the little mechling followed his movement, and his flailing in fact became more frantic and started to become accentuated by little grunts and whimpers of frustration.

Everglade gave the black mech an amused look, "I think you should probably take him, or else he's going to scream. And don't let his size fool you, he'll be _loud_."

Doppelganger's displeasure deepened, "And how do you know that?"

"Our other two little ones make the same face."

He rolled his optics, "I meant about the volume."

Thunderhead broke in, "You can see it in his face. He's building up for something mighty, and I'm not sure those poor sensitive audios of yours can take it."

This was met with a glare, but the warning had the desired affect. With blatant distress Doppelganger reluctantly slid up to his leader and held his long arms out in front of him. Aqualus gently placed the sparkling in the oversized, clawed hands, trying desperately not to snicker. _Nothing_, however, could have held back the laugh that exploded from his vocalizer the next instant when the minute mechling launched himself from Doppelganger's servos to his neck in no time flat. In all his vorns of working with the eccentric, irate mech, Aqualus had _never _under _any_ circumstances seen such a look of alarm on the black mech's faceplates.

Doppelganger glared at his leader, now doubled over in laughter, "Mute it."

Unfortunately the normally intimidating mech had lost some, or rather most of his dignity as soon as the sparkling attached itself happily to his neck cables and the other three just continued to laugh at his misfortune. Thankfully Everglade had enough control to compose herself quickly, though a grin still lingered on her faceplates.

"Sir, do we know how the little one got on board?"

The Prime cycled his vents to control himself before responding, "No, the security tapes are being reviewed. Lilt was on patrol when the little guy took a dive from up there."

He pointed up to a vent about three average mech heights up the towering wall.

Pause.

"Primus," Thunderhead rumbled, casting the sparkling an appreciative look.

Doppelganger had not yet succeeded in prying off said sparkling who seemed magnetized to his neck, but he managed to speak despite the chokehold.

"Why do I have the feeling we're going to regret this?"

"Little ones! Come out, I have someone I'd like you to meet," Everglade practically sang, coming into the medbay/orncare.

The sight that met her optics wasn't exactly what she expected. Riflet, the ship's CMO, was contentedly going through supplies, cataloguing, organizing, reevaluating, cleaning, and reorganizing. It was the scene behind him, however, that made her give him an incredulous look.

"Why is your apprentice huddled on a table?"

Doc Rif, as the white mech was affectionately called, glanced over his shoulder, "He's hiding."

"…why?"

"Younglings and sparklings scare him."

"They do not!" Young Ratchet howled across the room, only to frantically clamp his hands over his mouthplates, looking anxiously in the direction of where Everglade assumed the other two little ones were.

Riflet chuckled softly and rose from his stool, striding over to her with an expectant look, "I understand you have someone for me to see?"

Everglade smiled and moved her arms to allow the mech to see her burden. The sparkling had somehow curled his body enough to stick his pedes into his mouthplates and was now sucking on them happily. The medic snorted back his laughter and held out his arms.

"Primus he's a little one, isn't he?" the tiny 'bot turned his bright blue optics to the doctor and released his feet to make a little chirp and hold out his hands excitedly, "And friendly," he added.

"Can you find out his designation?" Everglade asked as he placed the mechling on an exam table to begin checking its physical condition.

"Probably. I'll run his spark signature through the databases at the last planet we docked at, he looks old enough to have been registered," he murmured, reaching for a few tools and already running some base scans, "I don't think we'll be finding much of anything wrong with him here, he's got way too much energy to be unhealthy."

This was said as the sparkling squealed in delight at the sight of one of Riflet's oh-so-shiny tools and started reaching for it. The medic chuckled yet again and handed the sparkling a brightly gleaming extendable mirror, used for delicate work in circuitry when full surgery was unnecessary. Naturally this soon found its way into the meching's mouthplates.

Everglade looked idly around the room, "Where are the other two?"

Doc Rif glanced over his shoulder, "Prowl, Ironhide! Get out here, kiddos!"

There was a chirp and a little red blur bounced across the floor to skid to a halt next to the adults, curiously standing on the tips of his pedes to see what was on the table.

"Wazzat?"

"It's a sparkling Ironhide," Everglade explained gently, carefully lifting him under the arms to see briefly the currently preoccupied sparkling.

Riflet cycled his vents and turned back around, ducking his helm to see under one of the tables and the boxes there that had been turned haphazardly into a fort, "Prowl, come on out," he called soothingly, but a pair of huge blue optics stared back at him, obviously not about to move, "Ratch, get Prowl, please."

"No!"

The medic turned to give the youngling a warning look, "Ratchet…."

"He _bites_!" Ratchet wailed in defense.

"Only if you let 'em."

The youngling groaned as if the whole universe were trying to make him miserable and jumped off his table, walking dejectedly over to the sparkling's lair.

"Prowl, c'mon…stupid sparkling," he grumbled, reaching under the boxes, fully intent on dragging the little one out…, "Ow! He bit me!"

Riflet vented at the whine and rapped his knuckles sharply against the exam table before sauntering over to where his young apprentice knelt, cradling his hand against his chassis and throwing dirty looks at the baby blue optics glaring back at him. The doctor crouched down, gave Ratchet's hand a quick once over, and reached out to grab the sparkling.

"Prowl, no biting," He warned when he felt little dental plates nip at his relatively large digits, "Come out now."

An angry squeal met his words as the little black and white mech was pulled from his hiding place.

"Oh Prowl! Come meet your new friend!" Everglade sang encouragingly, trying to help the poor CMO.

The sparkling made a frustrated whine and stopped trying to attack Riflet's servos, instead opted to pout. The doctor chuckled and plunked the youngling into a more comfortable position in his arms. Back at the exam table the still nameless sparkling had venture over to the table's edge to peer down at Ironhide. He giggled wildly and waved, but looked up quickly when Doc Rif stepped next to the table and set down a new and exciting creature.

There was a brief pause as the two mechlings stared at each other, seeming to size each other up, so to speak.

The moment, however, was cut short when, with a shriek of delight, the nameless sparkling launched himself across the short distance between them and glomped poor, unsuspecting Prowl.

Everglade keeled over laughing as Riflet gave an exaggerated cycle of his vents and decided to try his hand at prophesying, "I believe this marks the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

He had no idea.

* * *

"Jazz."

"Excuse me?" Aqualus lifted his gaze from the countless datapads on his desk to give his CMO a fully bewildered look.

"The new sparkling, I found his name in the planet's databases. It's Jazz. His parents must have been a musical couple, and very bright, the kid's processor is exceptional for his age. There's not really any information on them, unfortunately."

Aqualus nodded, "And his health?"

Riflet eased himself down into the chair across from the Prime, "Overall healthy, especially considering he must have come from one of the destroyed settlements. He was slightly malnourished, of course, and he needed some cleaning up. The only thing that's really not expected or normal is his optics. They're a little too sensitive to light and slow in focusing, by just a nanoclick or so."

The Prime frowned, "Is that serious?"

Rif shook his helm quickly, "Not at this point. My only concern is it may continue to deteriorate, but that would be a long ways in the future."

Aqualus nodded slowly, "And what would you recommend for his…housing situation?"

"You mean the fact that he's a homeless, special needs orphan?" Riflet shrugged, "We keep him. There's really nothing else to be done for it currently. He needs special care, and not just for those optics. He's hyperactive, and I know this just from spending less than a joor with the little mech. He shows signs of attention lapses and restlessness that will probably worsen at least for a while until he reaches younglinghood. Sparklings with that kind of problem are very difficult to raise even for the most well intentioned of 'bots if they don't share a bond with the sparkling."

"And so…because he'll be difficult and require patience…you want to keep him here? On a battle ship? With _Doppelganger?_"

The medic rolled his optics, "That two-bit processored maniac won't have to have anything to do with the sparkling, and he won't even have the chance to if I have anything to say about it. Besides, Jazz needs to be monitored by an experienced physician, I fit that description, plus we also have Everglade and Thunderhead as well-seasoned caretakers themselves."

"Okay…so we're adding one more to the gang?" Aqualus asked, perhaps a bit too hopefully.

Riflet grinned, "For now at least, yes."

"Great!"the Prime chuckled, "How much trouble can one little sparkling be, anyways?"

The CMO quirked and optic ridge, "Just because you asked, a _lot_."

* * *

_Lizard: And so it begins! Yes, this chap is a little heavy on the OCs, but it's kinda an intro to them as well as the sparklings. There will be more cuteness in the future, I promise! And yes, Aqualus Prime's name is the lamest sounding name for a Prime ever spawned, but I was thirsty and couldn't think of anything! DX Oh, and if anyone's wondering about Lilt...I'm not even sure she's a girl. She's my extra. If I need a character, I throw Lilt at it. So yeah, her name may pop up occasionally._

_Ages: Ratchet-Oldest, equivelant to human preteen; Ironhide-second oldest, equivelant to human 5 to 7 year old; Prowl-second youngest, equivalent to human toddler; Jazz-youngest, equivelant to human toddler._

_Usually I see Ironhide and Ratchet as being closer in age and Prowl and Jazz as being quite a bit younger, but since I'm sure Cybertronians age differently anyways this is how it is for the story._

_Now...Review! It makes me write faster! And it's nice!_

_LIZARD OUT_


	2. Intro Part 2

_Lizard: And....Intro number 2! Yay! Yes, this is another introductory chapter, it actually was originally just one big chapter but I split it cuz...I don't know why. Anyways, this will give further insight into the officers of the _Retra_ (awesome name, right? XD) especially Doppelganger. And you will see how Prowl feels about Jazz. And Jazz being cute!_

_By the way, if you see any of the officers doing something that the younglings are known for as adults (did that make any sense?) the reason would be you learn from your surroundings. If Riflet's OCD, chances are Ratchet may pick up on some of those tendencies ;) And Ironhide's accent? Pre-programmed. Yeah._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, but the story thing is mine. So don't take it. Or else :{ (my smiley has mustache!)_

* * *

"No! _Bad_ youngling!"

Thunderhead quirked an optic ridge, "They're not going to respond to that, kiddo."

Ratchet scowled from where he was actually standing on a chair to escape an exuberant Jazz. Itty bitty Jazz squealed in delight and reached for the older youngling's ankles from where he was leaning against the chair's base. However, the tips of his servos scarcely reached the seat of the chair, thus keeping Ratchet "safe."

That didn't make it any less annoying.

"Make him go away!"

The enormous weapon's specialist chuckled, "I would, but I'm kind of preoccupied."

He motioned vaguely at Ironhide who was having the time of his life using his monstrous guardian as a jungle gym. Ratchet gave a forlorn groan and gave Jazz the dirtiest look he could muster.

"Go away! Go…tackle the other one or something!"

A disturbingly vicious growl sounded from underneath a pile of boxes, letting everyone know exactly _what_ Prowl thought of that suggestion. The conference room they were currently using as the sparkling-sitting room had plenty of empty boxes and toys lying around, specifically for its smaller occupants and was substituting for the medbay while Riflet was tending to a sudden influx of badly damaged mechs and femmes from a recent skirmish.

Jazz perked up at Prowl's snarl and turned around to look. He fell back on his skidplate and tilted his helm. Wide, innocent optics met narrow angry ones. Prowl chattered "threateningly." Unfortunately, Jazz had no comprehension of "threatening" and took every sound, this one included, as an invitation. One he much too happily accepted.

Ratchet relaxed, only to watch suspiciously as the tiny mechling toddled ever closer to the other's fortress.

"He's gonna bite him."

Thunderhead looked up and debated whether or not he should intervene. Recalling how much sparklings screamed, however, he soon made up his mind.

"Jazz, why don't you come over here," he encouraged, trying to sound excited.

Jazz stopped and frowned, turning to look back at the adult mech, then at Prowl, back at Thunderhead, back at Prowl…. The other sparkling growled again, unknowingly sealing his own fate.

"Uh-oh," Ratchet muttered as they helplessly watched the sparkling scamper off to his doom.

Prowl glowered in his best scary face at the daring little mech, not at all happy with this new prescense. He didn't like this new sparkling, he was annoying and therefore stupid. So the stupid sparkling needed to leave him alone, but _wouldn't_. The tiny mechling tottered closer and closer until he was within reach…but instead of biting, Prowl expressed his displeasure in the most obvious way possible.

He screamed.

Loudly.

In response: Jazz screamed.

Loud_er_.

Ratchet nearly fell off his chair at the audio shattering shrieks coming from two very upset sparklings. Thunderhead winced and plucked a frozen-in-alarm Ironhide off his helm, "Well, he didn't bite him at least…."

As if on cue, on of the screams cut off, and a klik later the other escalated to the point of error messages beginning to scroll across the giant mechs vision and he frantically turned down his audio sensitivity.

"Now he did!" Ratchet shouted over the din, hands clamped firmly over his audio receptors.

"What in Primus' name is going on?!" Everglade's alarmed voice barely broke through from the doorway.

Behind her, Doppelganger backpedaled wildly at the shrieks that suddenly assaulted his hypersensitive audios and Riflet ducked out of his way. Ironhide was following Ratchet's example and screwing his faceplates up in discomfort. Everglade flitted into the room and scooped up the sobbing sparklings without hesitation. Prowl buried his faceplates in her shoulder, though he really probably had no idea why he was even upset anymore. Jazz, however, kept screaming at an unholy decibel.

At an odd sound he more felt than heard, Thunderhead turned in time to see Doppelganger stalking back in. He should have known the Special Ops Head was going to do something stupid, his optics were glowing more maroon than just even purple, but it hadn't occurred to him just how irate and inept the mech was with sparklings, and he couldn't stop him in time anyways as with two long strides Doppelganger had crossed the space between him and Everglade. With two wickedly curved claws and before it could occur to anyone what he was doing, the long-armed mech reached up and pinched something in little Jazz's throat.

The screaming stopped and there was silence.

Until Riflet's hand slammed into the back of Doppelganger's neck, disabling most of his ability to fight back. Systems snarling furiously, the doctor dragged the towering mech roughly out of the room before Everglade could put down the sparklings and beat him to deactivation.

Thunderhead stared after them for a moment and finally looked back at the absolutely fuming femme warily.

"…What just happened?"

Everglade turned her viscious scowl onto him and he cowered unconsciously, "He _pinched_ Jazz's vocalizer."

Thunderhead nodded slowly, "Did he hurt him, or…"

The femme vented and turned to allow him to see a very surprised looking Jazz, "No, but if he had just twitched even a-"

She was cut off by a delighted squeal.

Jazz had seen Prowl again.

* * *

"If you _ever_ touch _any_ of the younglings like that again, _I will turn you into a slagging waste receptical!"_

Riflet did not, by any means have a short fuse. He was a patient, reasonable mech with good self-control, but some things could really make him want to _harm _more that_ heal._ Usually these things had to do with Doppelganger.

Said mech looked seriously annoyed at being immobilized by a mere medic, but seemed also a bit annoyed at himself.

"I lost control, get over it."

Of course, no attempt at fixing the problem just "get over it" as if it wasn't a big deal.

Granted, his optics _had_ returned to a more violet-blue color, but Riflet wasn't convinced, he would _never_ be convinced. No matter his high standing and the trust Aqualus, Everglade, and Thunderhead placed in him, they didn't know his processor, and they hadn't _seen_ what those kinds of processors could do. _He_ knew how unstable and dangerous the mech was, _he_ knew what a threat he was, and he did _not_ under _any_ circumstances-

"Trust me?"

Riflet snapped his mouthplates shut and glared, realizing he had been ranting out loud.

Doppelganger continued to watch him mildly, obviously not offended in the slightest. Sometimes Riflet wondered if he even had the capacity to care.

"Did I upset you all?" he asked slowly.

Riflet gave him a disbelieving look, "Did you _upset_ us? No, fraggit, you made us slagging _furious_! Do you have _any_ idea how fragile a sparkling is?"

"No. Not in my programming."

"Not an excuse, you're getting lessons on the proper way to handle them, but even if you pass with flying colors I'm not letting you watch them unless I have absolutely no other choice or _you're_ being watched as well."

Doppelganger tilted his helm, an indication he wanted further explanation.

Riflet's systems growled dangerously, "You aren't safe."

He watched with some satisfaction as Doppelganger's optics reset and faded entirely to blue at that comment. He still wasn't offended, but perhaps a bit…concerned. The medic turned around and started reorganizing his immaculate tools.

"I'm…sorry."

Riflet paused and turned back around, scrutinizing the other mech for a long moment.

"Fine, you can go. But you should know I've already disabled your weapons systems and battle computer. Yours are toO active, it's obviously going to cause problems."

Doppelganger's optics widened, "You have no fragging right to-"

"You have no right to endanger a sparklings life. Leave now."

Doppelganger's systems gave a few menacing snarls, but he stiffly rose from the berth he'd been forced to sit on and he stalked out.

Riflet vented and dropped his helm into his hands.

"What have I gotten us into?"

* * *

Before he realized what he was doing, the gangly mech found himself stepping calmly into the conference room. He was met by six pairs of optics, two of which looked none too pleased with him.

He cut Everglade off before she could start yelling, "Please, I've already been lectured by Daddy Riflet, don't need a mother too. Besides, he turned off my battle systems, so I'm completely useless if we're attacked but hey! At least I'm not shutting up a screaming sparkling!"

Everglade scowled, "You don't pinch a _sparklings_ vocalizer."

"Yes, Riflet made that quite clear," he snipped back, "What the frag is he doing anyways?"

Thunderhead chuckled as Everglade told Doppelganger rather sharply not to curse in front of the younglings.

"Kid likes to put things in his mouth."

"Yeeeeaaahh…Is that really, uh, safe?"

Immediately the other two adults' optics snapped back to him.

"Soooo…what all did Riflet do to your processor?" Thunderhead rumbled.

Doppelganger rolled his optics, "Frag off."

Everglade cuffed him over the back of the helm, causing not even a twitch from the bigger mech. Instead he strode calmly to the other side of the room and slid down against the wall.

"No violence in front of the sparklings, Everglade," he cooed, "And I was asking because I want to make sure I'm not surrounded by a bunch of hypocrites."

The others weren't entirely convinced, but ignored it. After a klik of watching the sparklings Everglade excused herself with one parting glare at Doppelganger, saying something about having to review some battle statistics with Aqualus. The two remaining mechs barely acknowledged their exit, still absorbed in watching Jazz continue his fascinating activity. The same one he had been doing when Doppelganger arrived.

Rolling around on the floor, pedes in mouth, body a tiny, mechanical ball.

Ironhide had retreated to the world of holo-vid games and was oblivious to the world, but Ratchet was also watching the sparkling with something akin to disgust.

"Why's he doing that?"

"He's a sparkling, Ratch," Thunderhead chuckled, "They're strange little creatures."

The living ball continued to roll around in a little giggling loop, until…

_Clink._

Ironhide looked up from his game to see the Jazz-ball had run into him. Jazz uncurled himself, spat out his feet, and tilted his helm to stare with wide, baby-blue optics.

Pause….

Chirp.

Blink…

Grin…wider…wider…

Uh-oh.

_Glomp!_

Ironhide squealed and fell backwards at the force of the little sparkling's amazingly powerful tackle hug.

"No! Geh-off! Get off!" he shouted.

But Jazz didn't hear "Get off" or even "Geh-off." No, he heard, "Please hug me as tightly as you can and play a game where I try to push you off and you don't let go!!"

So that's exactly what he did.

Until Ironhide, in his desperate struggling, managed to give him a hearty smack on the helm.

Jazz immediately let go and fell back on his skidplate, staring at Ironhide in shock. Then slowly coolant built up in his optics…he gave a little hiccup…a strained vent…and….

"Hey there, no crying," Thunderhead soothed, scooping up the sad little mech, who promptly hid his face in the titanic mech's plating, "Ironhide…."

The red youngling pouted, "I didn' mean to."

"You still need to apologize, youngling."

He scuffed his pedes dejectedly on the floor and muttered a half-sparked, "Sorry, Jazz."

Little Jazz, however, would not be comforted and continued to whimper quietly. Ironhide frowned.

"Jazz? Ja-azz," he stood on the tips of his pedes, trying to see the little one's pedes, "I said sorry!"

Thunderhead placed a hand carefully on the red youngling's helm, "He forgives you."

"But he's still cryin'!"

"Sparklings cry, Ironhide, doesn't mean he's mad at you."

Thunderhead looked in surprise over at Doppelganger, who had given that little bit of wisdom. Where he had learned it Primus only knows, but that wasn't nearly as surprising as the fact that it was his voice that caught Jazz's attention.

The little mech looked up over Thunderhead's shoulder, making little "Uh?" noises. Doppelganger grimaced and tilted his helm before slowly holding out his claws. Jazz reached out his arms immediately, little faceplates screwed up in distress. Thunderhead looked between the two in indecision for a klik.

"For Primus' sake, Thunder, he's going to throw a fit," the lanky black mech muttered, apparently resigned to his fate.

The weapons specialist vented noisily but gently placed the sparkling in Doppelganger's big claws. With a much more careful manner, Doppelganger drew the little much up by his chassis, but Jazz was not content with just this, as he was almost instantly curled in between the mech's shoulder plating and neck. Said mech grimaced but didn't push the "nuisance" away.

Thunderhead rumbled in amusement, "_That's_ an image I never want to forget."

"Mute it."

* * *

_Lizard: Ah poor abused Doppelganger....and his coworkers. Hm, well next chapter is Bed Time! So be very excited now! ^-^_

_Leave a review after the beep._

_..._

_*beeeeeeeeeeep*_

_LIZARD OUT_


	3. Bedtime

_Lizard: Next chapter! And it's Bedtime! All children's favorite time of the day! XD Yeah, has anyone else noticed the words "bed time" tend to have a negative effect on young beings' moods?_

_There are a few references to aspects from my own childhood, as well as my sisters' that I will explain more at the end._

_Disclaimer: Why would I be here if I owned it? _

* * *

"No! I don't wanna!" Ironhide wailed as Thunderhead carried him to Everglade's quarters.

The femme was trotting along next to them, arms full of Prowl, and Doppelganger was supposedly on his way with Jazz. The Special Ops Head had just happened to be in the medbay when Jazz was receiving a routine check and had been drafted into taking the little one to his next destination.

Everglade smiled up at Ironhide where he was held against a large shoulder, "But sweetie, if you don't recharge you'll be too tired to play! You don't want that, do you?"

Ironhide was not convinced, "No! M' not tired! I wanna play!"

He pounded his little fists against Thuderhead's thick armor plating, earning him a warning growl from his massive guardian. Meanwhile, from Everglade's arms came a little, tired chirp. She looked down with a smile.

"Are you tired Prowl darling?" she cooed gently.

A pair of baby blue optics gazed back up sleepily and he made a little trill. Thunderhead snorted.

"Why is yours the good one?"

"Thunderhead!"

He just chuckled and adjusted his hold on Ironhide when the youngling very nearly escaped and took a swan dive off the big mech's shoulder.

"About time," Doppelganger's voice sounded from the shadows by Everglade's quarters when they arrived, words colored with annoyance.

He stepped into the light, and the reason for this irritation became clear. Jazz was in his arms, trying frantically to climb up to the mech's neck. Doppelganger was preventing him from doing so, but apparently this was a rather difficult task with his claws.

Everglade stifled a laugh and keyed the command to open her room's door and lead the others inside. It was a small room, despite her being an officer, but it was effective. As they entered the lights flipped on automatically.

"Alright little mechs, berth time!" she sang, trying to make it sound exciting.

Obviously they were not fooled.

Ironhide wailed and kicked in an attempt to get away, and Jazz stopped his mission to attack Doppelganger's face to turn and give Everglade a slightly concerned look. Prowl was suddenly much more awake in her arms and leaned away suspiciously. She vented and set him on the berth.

"How'd his appointment with Doc Rif go?" the femme asked Doppelganger lightly, taking Jazz carefully from him.

The lanky black mech thrummed and shrugged, "I wasn't really there for that, in case you forgot. But he said something about his vision being a little worse and…it wasn't anything serious. Can I go now?"

She gave him a withering look, "Please do, both of you."

Thunderhead held up his hands in a placating manner and backed out slowly, while Doppelganger merely rolled his optics and left. And thus she was left with three very tired but very not-wanting-to-recharge younglings.

"I'm not _TIRED!_" Ironhide screeched.

_I beg to differ…._ Everglade caught herself from saying it out loud, and replaced the thought with, "I'm sure you're not, but you still need to recharge."

Prowl was still looking at her warily, like he wasn't sure if he should try and make a break for the door if she tried anything funny. Jazz was preoccupied with looking around this new room in something akin to awe. It was his first time in her quarters where all the younglings except Ratchet would sleep, seeing as they didn't really have anywhere else to keep the little maniacs. Everglade had to bite back a laugh; it never ceased to amaze her how _hard_ it was to convince younglings that recharge was _necessary_, and she was already wondering how Jazz would be.

"Ironhide, love, I know you don't feel tired, but it's time to recharge," she said firmly, already pulling out her usual berth-time tools.

Prowl's soft, plush blue blankie, Ironhide's special, extra large pillow, and now a small, fluffy white doll of some unknown creature Riflet had somehow scrounged up for Jazz were all placed carefully on the communal berth. Despite his continued mistrust, Prowl perked up at the site of his beloved blankie and snatched it before Jazz could even _think_ of touching it, cuddling it happily. Jazz was not fazed and tackled his new doll joyously. Everglade laughed softly, switching on the "noise maker" as Ironhide had dubbed it, a small device that projected the slow, steady thrum of a spark, amplified to reverberate through the room in deep waves. The lights she turned down to a dim glow.

Everglade gently scooped up the two sparklings and bounced them slightly, humming an old lullaby, "Ironhide, why don't you pick out a book file."

"No! Don't wanna!" he shouted.

She shrugged, "Alright, no story this offcycle."

She started to get the sparklings settled in on the berth, and Ironhide hung back, suddenly very concerned.

"N-no, I get…I get story," he relented, trotting over to Everglade's shelf, "Dis one."

The femme scooted over to give him more room, Jazz seated comfortably in her lap with a finger in his mouth and Prowl cuddled close to her other side.

"Let's see, what did you choose?" she asked sweetly, gently taking the book file as Ironhide curled into her free side, "_There's a Cyber-Cow in the Road_**, **good choice."

One story time later, Everglade had two dead-out sparklings and a very sleepy youngling in denial on her hands.

"'M not tired," Ironhide slurred, optics dimming as his recharge cycle started to kick in.

"Of course not, little one," she hummed, scooping him up and laying him in his corner of the berth.

Prowl gave a slightly irritated squeak, still halfway in recharge, prompting his caretaker to gently pick him up and hold him over her thrumming spark chamber, the only place he seemed able to recharge. She started walking around the room patiently, soothing Prowl back offline.

"Uh?"

Everglade lifter her optics to see Jazz, who had been in recharge only a klik before, sitting up on the berth and watching her pace. She vented and walked back over, sat down and rubbed his sensitive neck wiring until the sparkling's systems slowed again.

'_How goes the battle of recharge?'_

Even with vorns of experience in an expressionless exterior, Everglade very nearly jumped in surprise and woke all her charges when the comm. came through.

_'You nearly made me loose, Rif,' _she responded dryly.

His laughter rumbled over the comm., _'My apologies. How's it going?'_

Everglade looked over to where Ironhide had finally conked out mid-complaint and Jazz was once again snuggled up to his fluffy toy, completely offline.

_'Their least favorite time, but they're down now.'_

_'Really? It's Ratchet's favorite!'_ he laughed.

She barely stifled her own giggle, _'That's right, he stays up later than them, doesn't he? Thus two joors with no sparklings?'_

_'Precisely, Ratchet's definition of freedom.'_

She smiled, _'Did you need something, Rif?'_

_'Well if you're not busy….okay, yes, I need to discuss some inventory problems. Sorry.'_

She vented softly and stood up from the edge of the berth after having sat down, _'I'll be right there.'_

"Uh?"

Wince.

_'On second thought…I may be a while….'_

_'He a light recharger?'_

_'Apparently.'_

Everglade cut the link and, sure enough, was met with the sight of two wide blue optics. She vented, yet again, and shifted Prowl in her arms. He wouldn't recharge without her, but at least when he was out, he was _out_. Obviously, though, Jazz would not be so simple.

"Hush, little mech, go back into recharge," she soothed, settling him back in and stroking his helm.

It took a few breems, but his cycle kicked back on, and Everglade slowly rose, intent on sneaking out. She was almost there…her hand waved by the controls and…it whooshed. Normally quiet. Now? Not so much.

"Uh?"

This was going to be a long offcycle….

* * *

Seven failed attempts and over one joor later, Everglade collapsed onto the berth between Jazz and Ironhide, activating her comm.

_'Rif, I'll help you tomorrow.'_

_'As you wish. Rest well Everglade,' _he chuckled before disconnecting the link.

The femme vented for what must have been the hundredth time that offcycle and offlined her optics. She felt Jazz curl into her side and Ironhide press closer on the other, while Prowl remained snuggled as close to her spark chamber as he could get. With a contented smile she allowed herself to drift into recharge.

* * *

_Lizard: Aw...cuteness...._

_Jazz's little light-sleeper-ness comes from my little sis, Hyphen. My mom used to actually try and crawl out of the room in an attempt to escape, but appaerantly Hyphen has super-power-hearing in her sleep....So she would sit up and go "Uh?" every time. XD She was so cute back then...I wonder what happened...._

_Okay the book file There's a Cybercow In the Road, came from a favorite book of ours (sisters and myself). There's a Cow in the Road anyone? XD BEST BOOK EVER!_

_We also had a noise maker when we were little, and it had a heartbeat for newborns, so....yeah._

_Feedback is much appreciated! And thank you to all of you who have reviewed already, you're wonderful people!_

_LIZARD OUT_


	4. Shots

_Lizard: So, do giant super advanced alien robots use needles? I don't know, but for the sake of this chapter, yes, yes they do._

_You are soon going to be introduced to two new OCs for this story, minor mechs who are there simply because every ship needs at least two maniacal idiots. Whilst discussing them with Frog I mentioned they were like Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, but she corrected me saying, "More like Sideswipe and Sideswipe on acid." No, they are not related to one another, nor to our beloved lambo twins, but I just _had_ to have some crazy characters. Besides Doppelganger, he's a different kind of crazy._

_And....E--GAD! It's the return of Lame-Named-imus Prime! Er, I mean Aqualus Prime! Yeah, only for a moment though._

_Disclaimer: I only own my OCs and the plot....thing....if there is a plot..._

* * *

His processors were going to short circuit.

Then shatter.

And finally explode.

It was that _loud._

Doppelganger groaned, even with his audio receptors turned down the piercing screams were just that, piercing. Absolutely, horribly, _painfully_, deafening.

_'Make it stop!' _he snarled through a comm. link to Everglade, not even about to attempt to be heard over the shrieking.

All he got in response was a pair of bright blue optics looking up just long enough to fix him with a heavy glare before they turned back down to the wailing sparkling in her lap.

He tried Doc Rif.

_'Riiiif-let!' _currently, he couldn't care less that he was so blatantly whining.

_'You sound like Ratchet when he hasn't got enough recharge,' _the CMO responded, annoyed, _'Shut off your audios if it's so disturbing.'_

The Special Ops head grimaced but complied sulkily. He hated turning off his audios, as they were his primary sensory system. It made him feel vulnerable. And since he was in such a wonderfully _mature_ mood this orn, he decided to pout about it, gloomily noting that he could at least not hear the screeching little Pit-Spawn.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the 'bay, Riflet knelt in front of Everglade, who was sitting on one of the medical berths, Prowl firmly latched to her chassis. External communications were futile at this point, so they had resorted to internal comm. links.

_'How long?' _the medic asked briskly, already running deep system scans of the sparkling.

_'He's been fussy for about an orn and won't take much energon, but he wasn't crying until we got here,' _the femme replied, obviously distressed.

Riflet paused in his attempts to pry the sparkling off of his caretaker and tilted his helm before giving a rough snort, _'I can say with some certainty that the screaming isn't a symptom of whatever he has. When you came in I was giving Doppelganger an injection, Prowl must have seen the needle.'_

Everglade looked at him in surprise, _'How do you know?'_

He looked up at her with a smirk, _'I'm a medic, I know all.'_

She rolled her optics. The mech's frame shook briefly in mirth and he finally succeeded in removing Prowl despite the sparkling's remarkably obstinate grip.

_'Where are the other two? Hopefully not with Lilt?'_

_'With Clatter and Shock who are…were in the rec room when I left them.'_

Riflet gave her an incredulous look, _'The doom duo?'_

She grimaced, _'They were the only qualified mechs currently not on duty.'_

He quirked an optic ridge and shook his helm, returning his attention to his young patient…and discovering that Prowl's mouthplates were shut. Hesitantly, the CMO turned his audios back on, and sure enough, it was nearly silent. Prowl stared up at him with large, miserable optics, little clicks and whines of distress the only sound he was currently making.

Riflet vented and set the sparkling down on one of the berths, sitting down on a stool in front of him.

"Alright, Prowler, let's see what's up," he murmured, adjusting his scanning system to search for a specific string of virus code that fit the young one's symptoms and age group.

Everglade hung back, watching her charge worriedly. He was still so tiny and helpless, even a mild virus could wreak havoc on such fragile symptoms. Knowing Jazz and Ironhide were currently in the care of two overly-excitable, irresponsible, and mischievous warrior mechs was doing nothing for her mental state either. She was startled when Rif's voice came over her comm. and she looked up to see him giving her a vaguely amused look.

_'He stopped several breems ago, you can turn your audios back on.'_

Oh.

Sheepishly, she did as he suggested and he went back to his examination.

"I said it looks like he has a minor virus. You said he won't take much energon, were you able to get him to drink any this morning?"

"No, he absolutely refused," she replied regretfully.

Doc Rif nodded and walked across the room to the storage cupboards, "Probably nauseated. I can give him something to get rid of most of the discomfort, but he's still not going to feel all that great. Try to get him to drink a little energon, and if he purges bring him back. Other than that, let him sleep and he should be fine in a couple orns. Any questions?"

As he asked this, he whirled back around, holding a most notorious medical device.

Everglade's optics widened, "Ah, yes…do you have to use _that?_"

Rif quirked an optic ridge, "Yes, it's the best way to administer the…oh Primus, 'Glade, your trypanophobia is appalling sometimes."

The femme risked wrenching her gaze away from the evil injection device just long enough to glare at the medic, "It's not a phobia, I simply don't like them."

"It's a phobia, and it's not changing the way I work. Which reminds me, Ironhide and Jazz are in need of their own firewall boosts, if you would be so kind…?"

She glowered but nodded, scooting away when he moved closer. He ignored her, rubbing Prowl's helm even as he finished preparing the needle-like device used to inject medication directly into the energon lines. Behind him Everglade squeaked and more than likely covered her optics, prompting the doctor to roll his.

"Alright, kiddo, let's get this over with before she has a panic attack," the large white mech muttered, already dreading the reaction he knew was to come.

A tiny shift of armor, a quick prick, injection, hasty retreat, and it was done. All in all it probably took a grand total of two kliks, but that was two kliks too much for Prowl, who instantly resumed his sorrowful wailing. Across the room, Doppelganger, having finally turned his audios back on, groaned. He rolled over, only to realize there was no longer a berth beneath him….

**_Crash!_**

_"SLAGGING PIT-SPAWNED SON OF A GLITCHED FRA-!"_

_"Doppelganger!"_

The stream of curses cut off and Riflet turned back to Everglade, who was once again cradling a very alarmed looking Prowl.

"You should probably take him before his processor is forever corrupted," she didn't move and he realized her optics were fixed somewhere behind him…., "Everglade, stop staring at Doppelganger's leg, yes it's missing, did you just now notice?"

She nodded absently. The medic ran a tired hand over his faceplates and grabbed her arm to drag her out of the medbay, trying to decide if she or Prowl looked more traumatized.

* * *

"Help! It's got me! It's….got…me! Can't…go on….I see the light!"

_Conk._

Jazz giggled hysterically and clambered onto the broad chassis of the ship's resident combat expert/maniac victoriously. The mechling peered down at Clatter's faceplates. His glossa was hanging out and his optics were dim, all systems quiet, and Jazz was suddenly concerned that maybe he really _had_ deactivated his giant, obnoxiously-bright-orange-and-yellow-to-the-point-it-was-painful guardian.

"Ah?" the sparkling plunked down on his skidplate and kicked Clatter's collar plating with his little pedes.

"_Hark!"_ "miraculously" the warrior mech launched upright, catching his charge around the chassis, "Our enemy approacheth! Prepareth for BATTLE!"

The mech lifted Jazz up next to his helm, only to turn and see the cackling sparkling was upside down.

"Forsooth! Or…Fortnight?....whatever, this is no time for games, lad! We hath a battle to fight!"

As he said this he tossed the sparkling in the air, catching him right-side up, much to Jazz's delight.

"Lo! Our enemy is…nigh!"

Jazz shrieked ecstatically as the light green frame of Shock came barreling into the rec room, Ironhide held high on his shoulders.

"Charge!" Ironhide's little voice howled across the room and a few of the room's other occupants glanced up in amusement.

His steed, Shock, let loose a battle cry and started hurtling towards the "enemy."

Clatter's optics widened, "Alas lad! We are outmatched! Thus we flee!"

And they were on the run, charging through the _Retra's_ halls and rooms, Shock and Ironhide in hot pursuit.

"Strike yer colors, ye scallywags!"

"Wha-? Wrong one!"

"Oh…surrender ye foul beasts!"

Ironhide piped up, "But _we're_ chasing _you_!"

"Oh, well that complicates things then," Clatter observed.

Skidding around a corner, the warrior easily dodged a mech who just so happened to be unfortunate enough to be in the middle of the hallway. Shock yelped, but also managed to duck under the startled mech's arm, only to nearly run over Clatter and Jazz. The tiny mechling now stood on the ground next to his current caretaker, and both were striking identical poses of over-dramatic…something.

"What the fra-"

"QUIET! We're expressing ourselves!"

Clatter switched poses to hands on hips, one shoulder forward, eyes staring intensely ahead, and he slowly lifted one hand to point dramatically at the far wall. Jazz followed suit as best he could, but he was grinning a bit too much to perfectly match Clatter's expression.

"…Well Ironhide…shall we join them?"

"Yeah!"

And that was how Thunderhead found them.

"What in Primus' name….?"

Shock perked up at the big mech's voice and turned around cheerily, "Hello sir, care to join our expression session?"

Thunderhead stared, disturbed, at the explosives specialist, envisioning him with just slightly wider optics and a faint twitch…at least he hoped he was just envisioning it.

Slowly he shook his helm, "No, I just need the younglings, Shock."

Clatter abruptly stiffened in his "expressing" before becoming a flurry of motion, grabbing both younglings (much to their delight) and staring with wild optics at his superior.

"You'll never take them _aliiiiiiive_!"

Shock nodded rapidly in agreement.

Thunderhead's optic twitched, "Boys…."

"NEVER!"

"Doc Rif needs to see them, Clatter," the enormous mech rumbled, rolling his optics.

"What?! But he has n-e-e-d-l-e-s!" Clatter protested, whispering the last part for no apparent reason.

The weapon's specialist nodded, "That's actually why he needs them."

Both mechs lurched back with gasps of horror.

"No!"

"We'll save you boys!"

Before the insubordinate duo could escape, however, none other than Aqualus Prime strode around the corner.

"Ah, Clatter, Shock, is there a problem?"

As insane and wired as the two immature mechs were, few were dumb enough to talk back to a Prime, no matter who he was.

"No sir."

"Thunder was just taking the little ones, sir."

Matching smiles of innocence and charm decorated their faceplates as they handed over the still giddy younglings, Clatter leaning down just long enough to say, "We'll rescue you later."

With that the doom duo fled down the nearest hall, wildly bantering about whose pedes were shinier. Aqualus snickered slightly at Thunderhead's exasperated expression. Very little could annoy the laid back weapons specialist, but those two were unfortunately one of those few things.

"Well, the younglings love them at least. They can even get Prowl riled up."

Thunderhead gave his leader a dry look out of the corner of his optics, "Is that really a good thing?"

"Eh, depends," he chuckled again.

Ironhide and Jazz were chasing each other around Thunderhead's giant legs, well…kind of, Jazz's equilibrium chips and stabilizing core were still a bit under-developed, so he toddled after Ironhide with a bit of difficulty. Their enthusiasm, however, was not affected by this setback in the least.

"Well, come on younglings, Doc Rif needs to see you," Thunderhead rumbled, herding the now thoroughly hyped duo towards the medbay.

* * *

"There you are," Riflet's exasperated voice greeted them as soon as the medbay doors slid open.

Jazz looked up from where he was carefully examining his stabilizing servos while being held by Thunderhead. A shriek of delight paired with frantically outstretched arms prompted Riflet to take him with a light smile. The sparkling trilled happily and snuggled close to the big mechs armor.

_'_Please_ don't let him see me,' _Doppelganger tossed over the comm. link.

Riflet's systems gave a whirr of amusement; as narcissistic as Doppelganger was begging had never been beneath him. Sadly for him, begging didn't work on medics.

"Alright, Jazz, let's do Ironhide first, and while you wait for your turn, Doppelganger can watch you! How's that sound?"

Even as Jazz perked up and squealed joyously, Doppelganger's voice shouted from the back of the room, "Frag no!"

Riflet just strolled casually over to the currently uni-legged mech's berth with an ecstatic Jazz squirming in his arms, "First off, don't curse around the younglings. Secondly he hasn't seen you since you got back from this disaster of a mission, so just humor him."

Doppelganger was leaning as far away as possible whilst one was lying down, watching with miserable optics that were thankfully almost blue with the drugs being pumped into his systems, "Wasn't a disaster, and I'd rather not."

The CMO merely rolled his optics and plunked the overly exuberant mechling onto the incapacitated bot's chassis. Instantly, jazz was snuggled happily against his lanky black caretaker's neck, happily babbling away in little chirps and clicks. Doppelganger groaned and offlined his optics in defeat.

Content that the youngest passenger on the ship was secure, Riflet turned back to the task at hand. Ironhide was already seated on the exam berth, swinging his legs and looking around the immaculate medbay with a youngling's innocent curiosity.

"Alright, 'Hide, I'll make this quick," he assured, rifling briefly through a drawer to get the injectors and anti-viral firewall boosts.

Ironhide looked up with wide, oblivious blue optics, caught sight of the dreaded injection devices and contorted his little faceplates in distress.

"Uh-uh," he shook his helm rapidly and scooted away.

Riflet winced internally; he had been hoping the youngling wouldn't see the devices until he was done. Apparently Primus was against him today.

"Come on, Ironhide. The sooner you let me do it, the sooner it's over," he reminded soothingly.

Ironhide scrunched up his faceplates, "No! Don't want it! Go 'way!"

The medic released a whoosh of air through his vents and sent Thunderhead a pleading look. Said mech looked almost amused at the situation but stepped in to the doctor's aid.

"Hey now, what happened to my brave little 'bot, eh?" Thunderhead rumbled, "It'll be over before you know it, hardly a pinch."

Across the room, the ever helpful Doppelganger snorted, "Liar."

That was enough for Ironhide, who burst out wailing. Rif and Thunderhead both shot the Special Ops Head equally ticked off glares.

"You just can't help yourself, can you?" Riflet growled.

Doppelganger smirked back, until Jazz started tugging uncomfortably on some wiring in his neck, reclaiming his attention.

Riflet's systems suppressed a snarl, but he decided he could get after Doppelganger later and quickly prepared the injectors.

"Alright, 'Hide, here we go. 3…2…"

He didn't reach one, just suddenly injected both devices at the same time in either leg. Ironhide abruptly stopped crying, looking completely shocked, before a dark scowl settled across his features.

"See? Not so bad, right?" Riflet asked wearily.

Ironhide glared up at him, "I hate you."

Thunderhead rumbled, "Ironhide…."

_'I'm with the younging,' _Doppelganger moped sullenly over a link.

Riflet just ran a hand over his faceplates, "Okay, I'm ready for Jazz."

"Good," Doppelganger snapped, but his voice was oddly muffled.

The doctor whipped around to see the reason for this odd sound distortion was Jazz, giggling happily, was using his little hands to clamp Doppelganger's mouthplates shut, much to the large mech's annoyance. Now having to stifle his laughter, Riflet pried Jazz off his giant, angry teddy bear with great care for his fragile little frame and carried him over to the exam table. Thunderhead was standing off to the side to keep an eye on Ironhide, who was pouting where he sat next to the wall. Jazz thankfully only needed one boost as he was still very young, so Riflet had it prepared quickly. A flash of regret went through his spark when Jazz smiled innocently up at him, but he pushed it down with the knowledge that this was important.

So with a reassuring grin, Riflet shifted a little armor and hurriedly administered the boost. Jazz froze.

His optics tripled in size and a look of absolute shock came upon his countenance.

Then slowly….slowly he broke down and started bawling, and, to the surprise of everyone present, lifted his arms to Rif.

"Un-fraggin'-believable," Doppelganger muttered, dropping his helm back to the berth, "Maybe you should check his CPU."

Rif didn't respond, just obligingly scooped up the sad, sad little mechling and held him against his shoulder. Jazz buried his helm in the white mech's neck, sobbing and clinging to the caretaker.

Thunderhead chuckled at Rif's pained expression, "Ever had that happen before?"

Riflet's intakes huffed slightly and he unconsciously gave a soothing thrum.

"Nope, bless his spark," he murmured, walking over to one of the cupboards, "Energon goodie, 'Hide?"

The youngling visibly went through a mental struggle of whether or not he was too angry, decided he wasn't and trotted over to take the proffered treat.

"What do you say, Ironhide?" Thunderhead rumbled.

The red mechling frowned for a moment, but looked up at Riflet reluctantly, "Thank you."

Doc Rif smiled slightly, "You are welcome," he tilted his helm to try and see the sparkling now thoroughly glued to his neck, "Jazz, would you like one?"

With out separating himself from the doctor, Jazz shook his helm miserably.

"Aw, Rif, you broke his spark," Doppelganger called.

_'Not appreciating the sarcasm….'_

A laugh was all that met the snarled remark.

* * *

_Lizard: Aw...sad baby Jazz makes me sad....but tis cute, so I'll live._

_On Everglade: trypanophobia is the irrational fear of medical procedures involving needles. Everglade has this fear, and is also a bit put off by missing limbs and such. Not that I can blame her. Thank goodness she isn't living during an actual war or she would suffer greatly at the gore._

_Clatter and Shock are insane. This you probably gathered, and they will return periodically when I need them._

_Riflet is not Ratchet. His bedside manner is usually very prominent and pleasant. He just can't stand Doppelganger._

_Feedback is much loved, thank you for reading!_

_LIZARD OUT_


	5. Dirty Mouths

_Lizard: I LIVE!!!!! Ahem, yes, I'm back, with a new chapter to boot!_

_So, this chapter is sort of a continuation of the last, and originally I intended for it to be about some of the little ones getting sick, but then I wrote it and...I literally just put things down without thinking where I was going and this is where I ended up. Sorry Doppelganger._

_Anyways....Onward, ho!_

_Disclaimer: I only own my OCs. Transformers belongs to rich people._

* * *

An orn after the Battle of the Shots, Riflet was worn thin. Medics were in short supply and thus he was one of two on the massive _Retra_ and the Chief Surgeon to an entire fleet. His workload was not one for the faint of spark to start with, but now he was also the attending physician to a fledging, a youngling, and two sparklings, and _that_ was colossal task.

As this orn was proving right now.

"He's purging everything up!" Everglade fretted, cradling a quivering Prowl.

Riflet vented heavily and took the tiny sparkling from his caretaker's arms, running deep, focused scans. Prowl whimpered sorrowfully and curled into the big mech, a rare display of trust.

"Alright, what's the matter, hm?" he rubbed the sparkling's helm and Prowl whined, "Purging isn't very fun, is it?"

Another whine met the question, sounding very much like agreement. The fairly calm, though worried atmosphere, was soon to be broken, however, by a most disruptive force….

"Hey Everglade! Did you see what I did on my last mission?" Doppelganger called from where he still lay on the berth.

The femme stubbornly refused to acknowledge him. Unfortunately, he was not swayed.

"I fell. Well, I meant to, so it was more of a jump, but somehow my leg got caught in some metal, the rest of me kept falling and _screech!_ Off comes the leg!"

Riflet groaned internally and risked a glance back at Everglade. Her optic was twitching madly and she was beginning to look like she was valiantly battling queasy tanks.

"There was energon _everywhere, _it was kind of squirting out, and the wires were all sparking and dangling. Smelled like slag, that burning, hot smell, you know. Very unpleasant."

"Riflet?" Everglade squeaked.

He vented, "I'll keep Prowl for the rest of the orn, you can leave now."

She was out the door before he had finished. From his berth, Doppelganger snickered and leaned back.

"Why must you?" Riflet growled, casting a withering glare at the black mech.

"Torturing others brings me pleasure. But you knew that."

The medic snorted and went about working on Prowl. An injection would be easier in most circumstances, but since he had already given the mechling one just joors earlier, he was hesitant to do so again. He was too young to be given a direct link treatment, so that left orally. Joy.

"Ratchet, get me the 5.7 med-grade," Riflet called out.

The red and white youngling seemed to materialize out of thin air at his side, always eager to learn, and looked up expectantly. Riflet held back a grin and waved a hand at the containment tank for the liquid energy. His apprentice bounced happily over and returned moments later with exactly the right amount.

"Thank you," the medic hummed, taking the cube and setting it aside for a moment.

He took a device out of a nearby cupboard and set Prowl on one of the exam berths. He pulled a cable from the back of the device and gently connected it to the back of the sparkling's neck, hoping to get a better reading. While he waited for the reader to complete its task, he coaxed Prowl to open his mouthplates long enough to get the small amount of energon into the little one's tanks.

Prowl squirmed and sputtered at the foul-tasting concoction, sniffling pitifully. Riflet smiled softly and absent-mindedly massaged the little one's helm.

"Bad orn, huh?"

Prowl looked up with wet, sad, baby-blue optics.

The CMO vented, "Yeah, me too…."

* * *

"He bit me!"

Riflet moaned. He had literally not recharged at all and had just settled down to try and at least rest his tired joints for a few breems. Sadly, this was not the universe's plans for him as Ratchet's shout snuffed out any remaining hope for such leisure. With a hissing of hydraulics and a groan of gears he stood up yet again, for what felt like the hundredth time that off-cycle. He was running on reserve-energy, and barely awake as he stumbled from his quarters off the medbay.

"Stupid fragging Pit-spawn!"

_That_ woke him up.

"_What_ did you just say?"

Having not realized his teacher had come back out and now hearing the tone that suggested he already knew _exactly_ what had been said, Ratchet stiffened in front of him. His back was turned, but Riflet could practically see the wheels turning as the youngling tried to conjure an answer that wouldn't result in his own suffering. Silently, in the back of his processor, the CMO thanked Primus that Doppelganger was still deep in recharge, because really the volatile mech would never let him live this down.

"Ratchet, where did you hear those words?" Riflet all but growled.

With huge, terrified optics, Ratchet slowly turned around to face his guardian, temporarily forgetting the savage sparkling behind him.

"Uh…what words?" he suddenly blurted, feigning innocence.

"Young mech, don't you _dare_ try that on me," Riflet barked, and Ratchet still swore vorns later that he saw the room darken and the medic's optics flash red.

With a frightened squeak the youngling started babbling, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, it just came out and I'm sorry I know it was wrong and I'll never, ever curse again!"

His caretaker continued to scowl ominously before stalking past him to Prowl, "Next time I hear _any_ of those words come out of your lip components, I'm washing them out with solvent."

Ratchet nervously reset his vocalizer with a little click, and ducked his helm. Prowl at first stared wide-opticed at the tired and irritable CMO, but that changed the moment a hand tried to pick him up. With a feral screech the tiny bot flung himself backwards, hissing and growling all the while. Riflet froze; he really _did _look like a Pit-spawn….

"What'd you do to it?"

Oh Primus, why?

"Go back into recharge, Doppelganger, your self-repair systems need more rest," the medic called over his shoulder wearily.

"I would, if I weren't surrounded by fragging Pit-spawned glitches that won't shut the slag up," the mech retorted snippily.

Abruptly Riflet stopped his desperate attempt at calming the agitated sparkling and stood stock still. For several long kliks he did not move, and Doppelganger watched him curiously, wondering why the doctor hadn't shot back some sharp reply. Ratchet meanwhile watched his teacher apprehensively, unsure what the oddly blank expression on his faceplates implied. Slowly, slowly, Riflet turned around.

"What…did you say?"

Doppelganger snorted, "I think you heard me."

Riflet's expression darkened, and he looked about ready to start lecturing, but something caught his optic and he stopped. A thoughtful expression came to his faceplates that gradually morphed into one of malicious inspiration and he marched resolutely to the washbasin. Quickly he snatched something up and spun back around to approach the lanky black mech. The _helpless_ lanky black mech.

"What are you doing? Riflet? Doc?....What…is that solvent? Riflet, what the frag is wrong with you? Really…it's not…you're being very creepy, please stop. Riflet?"

Doppelganger scrambled back away from the medic as best he could, optics wide and suspicious.

"I'm setting an example," Riflet stated simply upon reaching the berth.

Doppelganger flattened himself against the flat metal surface, "Well that's sinister."

At that the CMO smirked slightly, "I know."

Meanwhile, Thunderhead was slowly, methodically cleaning his heavy right arm-mounted plasma canon. He had always been an early riser, but currently there wasn't much to do besides maintenance on his many weapons. That is, until Doppelganger's uncharacteristically panicked voice came over his comm.

_'Thunderhead! Riflet's finally lost it, he's trying to fragging dump _solvent_ down my throat!"_

The enormous weapons specialist sat very still, completely lost, _'…what?'_

_'Get him the frag away from me!'_

Thunderhead rumbled in confusion. Why would Riflet be dumping solvent down Doppelganger's throat? So, with haste, he opened a comm. link with the normally level-headed CMO.

_'Rif? Why is Doppelganger saying you're trying to make him drink solvent?'_

The reply was short, sweet and…somewhat disturbing, _'Because I am.'_

Thunderhead briefly reset his optics, _'Dare I ask why?'_

_'Long or short version?'_

_'Uh…short for now?'_

_'Alright, he curses too much in front of the younglings and I'm teaching him not to,' _Riflet stated matter-of-factly.

Thunderhead took a moment to absorb that, _'So your washing his mouth components out with solvent?'_

_'Essentially, yes.'_

And that was how Doppelganger's last hope for rescue was incapacitated by uncontrollable laughter.

* * *

When Everglade arrived to pick up Prowl later, she had to admit seeing Doppelganger frantically trying to rinse out his mouth at the washbasin while relying on the counter to keep himself upright had not been expected.

"Hi ma'am!"

Everglade turned her optics from the intriguing scene to a happy looking youngling, "Hello Ratchet. Where is Riflet?"

Ratchet grinned and pointed to the back office, then snickered, "He made Doppelganger drink solvent."

Everglade froze and turned her head to the disgusted black mech, "Why?"

"Because I had just finished telling Ratchet how bad it is to curse, when Lieutenant Self-control over there started pouring out some less than appropriate language," Riflet's voice filtered from across the room, accompanied by some agitated clicking, "Prowl will be fine. The purging was an adverse reaction to the medication, resulting from apparently sensitive tanks, and the virus itself is on its way out. Right now he's feeling better, besides being a bit fussy, as you can see."

Prowl growled and kicked his little pedes angrily. His azure optics caught sight of Everglade and he immediately tried to fling himself in her direction. She quickly took the sparkling before he could succeed in this attempt and he curled up against her neck, glaring furiously back at Rif.

The CMO vented, "I gave him another injection, so…he's a bit annoyed."

Everglade chuckled lightly, "I'm sure he'll forgive you eventually."

"I won't!"

Riflet snorted, "I don't care Doppelganger."

The other mech's systems snarled furiously, burgundy optics smoldered but he turned back towards his berth and started struggling towards it. Riflet glanced over his shoulder and frowned.

"Let me help you 'Ganger," the Doctor sighed, walking over.

"No! Stay away from me, maniac!"

Everglade had to bite back a snicker at how the tables had turned on their soft-spoken and patient CMO.

Riflet shook his helm but sauntered up and grabbed hold of Doppelganger's upper arms, helping him back despite plenty of loud and vehement protests. Everglade looked back over at Ratchet who was laughing softly at the scene. Taking not of the glint in the youngling's optic, she wondered idly what kind of medic he would be. She could only pray to Primus that this incident didn't have any far reaching effects.

* * *

_Lizard: Psh, far-reaching effects? As if! Ratchet would _never_ resort to violence or cursing! I mean, he's the nicest medic ever!_

_....._

_Yeah, we'll just let Everglade believe that._

_If anyone is wondering, no, Riflet is not a predecessor of the Hatchet, he's not nearly so temperamental. So no worries. He does, however, have a most unique lesson-teaching side that usually comes out when he's around a certain Head of Special Operations. It's like Riflet's version of the twins._

_Anywhosit! Review please! It increases the rate at which I write! (sometimes....) Oh, and if you have any ideas for something you'd like to see, let me know in a review! Just remember I don't write slash. See ya'll!_

_LIZARD OUT_


	6. The Great Escape

_Lizard: Next chapter is here! Better late than never, I guess._

_This one is a Jazz and Doppelganger centric, important to future developments. It is definitely one of my favorites and has been written for quite a while, just not posted. And...I'm really tired right now and _The Invasion_ is playing on the TV and scaring the crud out of me so I don't know what to write. So here you go. _

_Disclaimer: I own only my OCs, the _Retra_, and the...sort-of-plot. Canon TF characters and the TF universe isn't mine. The "scruffbar" concept comes from Karategal's stories (which, if you haven't already, you need to go read. After reading this because once you read her stories, mine will pale in comparison.)_

* * *

It was a peaceful day on board the _Retra_, for once everything seemed to be going smoothly. Thus far, Clatter hadn't pranked anyone, Doppelganger hadn't killed anyone, Shock hadn't blown anything (or anyone) up, and even the younglings seemed to be giving their caretakers a brief reprieve.

Of course, all good things must come to an end.

"I can't find Jazz!" Everglade wailed, exploding into the conference room where Aqualus, Doppelganger, Thunderhead, and Riflet had been awaiting her arrival.

Three of the four mechs leapt immediately to their feet in surprise, but Doppelganger just tilted his helm and frowned incredulously.

"How do you loose a sparkling?" he asked slowly.

Everglade huffed and glowered, "I don't know! One minute he was sitting on the floor trying to fit a bookfile in his mouth components, and the next he's gone. All I did was talk to Bass Clef for maybe a breem and when I stepped back in the room he was gone."

Riflet twisted his faceplates, "You left the younglings alone?"

"No! I was right outside the door, which wasn't even closed all the way, and there's nothing in there that could hurt them anyways."

Doppelganger snickered, earning him several heavy glares.

"You lost a sparkling," he chortled, "And they say _I'm_ irresponsible."

With an impressive snarl of her systems, Everglade made like she was going to march over and decapitate him, but Thunderhead stopped her. Doppelganger continued to shake with now silent mirth at her predicament.

Aqualus whistled his vocalizer sharply, gaining his ornery officers' attention once again, "Enough, the meeting can wait. Everglade, take Doppelganger to your quarters-"

Doppelganger raised a hand, "I'm uncomfortable with that."

Thunderhead nearly choked on a snort of laughter, giving Everglade the opening to lurch forward and whack the black mech upside the back of the helm, while Riflet rolled his optics.

Aqualus glared, "Silence, Doppelganger. You will go with Everglade to look around and see if you can't find where he went."

"Seriously, I climbed all the way to Head of Operations just so I could search for missing sparklings?"

"_GO!_" the Prime roared.

Doppelganger barely twitched but rose and started out, snickering all the way. Everglade followed in a huff, leaving the remaining three in silence.

Thunderhead broke said silence a moment later with his attempted optimism, "At least he's in a good mood?"

Riflet banged his helm against the table.

* * *

_Meanwhile…._

Jazz crawled confidently through the utility pipelines of the ship. Where he was going, he didn't know, but it was sure to be _wonderful_. When the nice femme had left, he happened to see a sparkle under the big berth. His friend Prowl had politely declined from investigating with him and his other friend Ironhide was getting an ed-you-kitchen. Jazz wasn't sure what that was, but Everglade said it was important. Anyways, all this meant that he would have to go find the sparkly thing by himself.

So Jazz had squeezed under the berth and found a flat piece of shiny metal. This was fantastic. Even more exciting though was a little door just right for him, but he couldn't open it because it was bolted shut. Of course, this was hardly enough to deter Jazz. So taking his new sparkly piece of metal, he carefully, methodically unscrewed the loose bolts until the door fell off and he crawled right in.

Now here he was, scurrying along these secret passages. In one little servo he held the shiny metal, and the other was used to push various wires out of his way as he continued further into the labyrinth. Besides the occasional light seeping through cracks and such it was very dark, but Jazz didn't care. He was on an _adventure_, and mechs on adventures didn't need to be scared.

He crawled on and on, up down, left, right, over, and under. Sometimes he would stop at a little door and look out at the mechs and femmes he sometimes saw, delighting in the fact that they couldn't see him, because he was sneaky. He knew that word, Riflet called him that whenever he hid. Then Ratchet would say something about a "stupid little sneak" but he wasn't sure what that meant. Giggling (quietly, of course) he turned away from yet another little door and continued onward.

* * *

"Well?" Everglade's impatient voice cut through Doppelganger's careful scanning of her quarters.

He glanced back at her and tilted his helm, "What?"

She glowered and tapped one of her pedes in annoyance, "Have you found anything?"

The mech nodded and went back to boredly pacing the room, "Yep, your high grade stash. You might want to store that higher, younglings are cunning little Pit spawns."

He glanced slyly over his shoulder and was greatly pleased with the way Everglade's mouth was hanging open. She recovered quickly though, crossing her arms defensively over her chassis and glaring.

"You're supposed to be looking for Jazz," she seethed accusingly, looking _almost_ like she was moping, much to Doppelganger's delight.

He snorted, "First, quit whining. Second, when have I ever done what I'm supposed to do? Oooo, is that a-"

"If you're only going to be snooping around and invading my privacy, then you can leave now," Everglade cut in sharply, getting between him and the drawer he had just opened.

Indifferent, Doppelganger shrugged and turned around, allowing himself a small smirk only when he knew she couldn't see his faceplates.

"Okay."

He strode out of the room casually, stoping just on the other side of the threshold. The satisfying sound of the lock being initiated came after Everglade shut the door behind him. Snickering to himself, the lanky black mech swaggered off with his characteristically predatory stance, a faint smirk tugging at his lip components in such a way that anyone who had the displeasure of passing him in the hall ducked quickly out of the way.

A volatile Doppelganger was terrifying but normal.

A quietly laughing Doppelganger in a good mood? Downright disturbing and dangerous.

Thus he was unimpeded on his way to his office where he could settle in to watch this most amusing drama unfold.

* * *

Hmm, now where could he be?

Jazz sat back for a moment, looking around the jungle of wires around him. He was sure this wasn't where he was supposed to be, but it wasn't like he could just close his optics and reappear in the medbay.

Could he?

He tried it. Squeezing his optic shutters tightly shut he tried to say some magical chant, a burst of chitters and clicks, then flashed the shutters open again. Nope, didn't work. He was still in the wires. Well, then he would just have to keep on adventuring. The sparkling pouted for a moment—this was taking a long time after all—but then he thought about what wonders could possibly await him and he clapped his little servos together, once again raring to go.

Oh the excitement!

* * *

Thunderhead watched in fascination as his leader's faceplates twisted between a series of conflicting emotions; annoyance, worry, amusement, frustration, and puzzlement were all mixing to create a rather painful looking expression. Aqualus had been having a silent conversation with Everglade over the comm. but he had never been particularly good at disguising how he felt, thus Thunderhead could pretty well get the gist.

"Is 'Ganger being difficult?" he rumbled, optics glinting with amusement.

The relatively young Prime rolled his optics, "Is a super nova bright?"

A snort, "Point."

Aqualus ran one servo over his faceplates, "Everglade wants to deactivate him, and then me for sending him, you for letting me, his creators for creating him-"

"You mean he _wasn't_ spontaneously spawned of darkness?"

Aqualus froze and stared blankly at Thunderhead's shocked expression for a moment before nearly falling out of his chair in laughter. Thunderhead's deep booming rumble joined him shortly.

The Prime snorted as he started to regain control, "Who put us in charge of an entire race again?"

Thunderhead snickered, "Whoever they were, they sure as Pit must have had more than a few loose bolts."

Aqualus practically cackled at that, "So true, we can't even…Aw frag, we can't even find Jazz!"

This last part was more a discouraged moan and he dropped his head against the desk as he remembered the reason for Everglade's anger in the first place. Thunderhead chuckled and patted the other mech's back in mock comfort.

"Relax prime, I've got a feeling 'Ganger knows more than he's letting on."

_Several joors later…_

The _Retra_ was a buzz of activity, and it all focused around one single, seemingly simple dilemma: Jazz was missing. _Still._

Everglade was beside herself, Riflet had his hands full with the remaining three younglings, Aqualus was on the verge of some kind of meltdown, Thunderhead was freakishly calm since his faith was placed in Doppelganger, and the Special Ops Head had not been seen since he entered his office joors earlier. And that was just the officers. By now everyone knew that the sparkling was missing, and there wasn't a mech or femme on board that wasn't at least trying to help search.

Meanwhile Jazz was completely oblivious and having the time of his life in the utility pipelines, amongst the tangles of wires. He naturally remained completely oblivious even when he tugged at a cable caught on his little pedes which, in turn broke in an apparently frayed kink.

However, the rest of the ship certainly _did_ notice when a third of the ship was plunged into darkness. Screams, yelps, and loud clangs echoed through the corridors as mechs and femmes suddenly found themselves in pitch blackness for several kliks before the emergency lighting kicked on.

As the chaos continued, from somewhere deep in the ship, in the area of the Special Ops Head's office, there came the sound of uproarious, bordering on slightly maniacal laughter.

In her own office, Everglade jumped at the lighting change, and then glowered at the sound of the laughter.

"Doppelganger…."

* * *

"How long have you known?" Everglade demanded, storming into Doppelganger's office.

He was leaning back in his chair, pedes propped up on the plain metal desk. He didn't look at her, just continued to stare vacantly at the ceiling, optics flickering, a clear indication that he was connected to the ship's scanning and security network.

"Known what?" his voice was distant, meaning he was running almost entirely on "auto pilot," completely focused on whatever he was scanning.

Everglade scowled and marched up to the desk. With over-exaggerated force she slammed her palms down on the desk, leaning forward with a violent snarl. As expected, Doppelganger's optics flashed, his body shot bolt upright, and there was a series of hums, clicks, and whines as his entire, hidden weapons system onlined. She almost smirked, enjoying the disgruntled expression on his faceplates at being jerked back by his own defensive failsafe programming.

He glared at her and powered down his weapons, while Everglade continued, "How long have you known where Jazz is?"

The mech rolled his optics, "Since he left your quarters, I have alarm sensors around there specifically for this kind of thing," a smirk crossed his faceplates, "He actually crossed by overhead while you were ranting about how you lost him."

Everglade bristled but choose to ignore that comment, instead settling to ask in a deadly tone, "Where is he?"

Doppelganger glanced at her furious expression in a mild, somewhat condescending manner, "Utility pipeline. You act like I wasn't keeping an optic on him."

"_Scans_ are not _watching_ a sparkling! Now go and _get him!_" she all but shrieked.

"But-"

"That's an _order_ Doppelganger," the femme seethed, calling on an authority the mech greatly resented.

Doppelganger's optics widened, and then narrowed before he stiffly rose and nodded sharply, "Yes ma'am," he ground out, then left.

Vibrating with rage, Everglade counted slowly to ten—twice—before she turned around and left as well.

* * *

Jazz couldn't wait to tell Prowl about this! He would be so excited!

Of course, he had to get back first. An adventure story was only good after the adventure had taken place after all. The sparkling chirred in frustration; this would throw a damper in his plan. How had he gotten here anyways? There were a lot of turns involved, he remembered, but…he didn't remember where those turns were. Thus, a dilemma.

Oh well, he was Jazz, he would find a way!

And so he continued happily onward, perfectly confident in his abilities. That is, until he heard a peculiar sound. He stopped. A pause and then…there it was again!

_Ba-ba-klunk._

What was that? …oh, it was his tanks. He was empty. How odd, Everglade never let him get empty…oh, that's right, he wasn't with Everglade. That brought on a pout. Now he _really_ needed to get back. How upsetting. Well, no use sitting around, he thought, and forward he scurried.

* * *

"You sure, 'Ganger?" Thunderhead rumbled, looking up at where the lanky mech was clinging to the ceiling and scoring a hole with a laser cutter that folded out of the back of his hand.

"Positive," Doppelganger grunted.

The weapons specialist shrugged and nodded, "And you can get to him?"

At that the other mech paused in his tedious work to direct a withering look at the other, "Of course."

Thunderhead held up his hands in a placating manner, grinning slightly while his sort-of-friend went back to his task, "Just making sure."

Doppelganger snorted, "Who else could do it? Lilt?" he scoffed, "Hardly a preferable choice."

Further conversation was forestalled when he finished cutting and the ceiling panel fell unceremoniously to the ground. Thunderhead stepped out of the way, not commenting on the lack of warning from above. With hardly a sound Doppelganger slid through the new, perfectly round hole. A little known fact about the manic mech, he could be ridiculously obsessive about the perfection of his hole-cutting. Thunderhead chuckled and settled in to wait.

Meanwhile Doppelganger was slipping effortlessly through the various wires, cables, and pipes that kept the ship running. There was no light, but he didn't need any. He switched to IR optical sensory mode, and kicked up his tactile and audio ranges to pick up vibrations in the ship and in the air. He was a little ways away from Jazz's current location, with the sparkling moving _away_, but Jazz couldn't move nearly as quickly as he could.

Finally he came to a broad pipe from which came little shuffles and clicks. A utility pipe for the electrical system. Doppelganger chuckled and carefully examined the pipe, following Jazz's noise easily. Now the hard part, getting him out.

"Jazz."

There was a pause in the sounds followed by a confused chirp as if to say _Where'd the voice come from?_

"I need you to hold still, alright?"

A little twitter answered in what he hoped was affirmation and he unfolded his laser cutter and started to slice through the pipe, keeping careful distance between the tool and the sparkling, as well as all the vital wiring.

Immediately there was a squeal of alarm and scuffling from within the pipe. Doppelganger shut off the cutter. He cycled his vents heavily. Pit-slagging sparklings.

"Hold _still_, Jazz," he reminded, tapping the pipe lightly.

A whine met the comment, but there were no further sounds of attempted escape. Doppelganger vented and adjusted his position between the two walls so that his hands were both free. He reactivated his cutter and set to work. The metal hissed softly and the cutter itself only made a faint hushing noise but that was enough to elicit another whine from Jazz, although this time he didn't budge.

Subconsciously the mech made a low guttural thrumming deep in his chassis, similar to the sound a caretaker would make to soothe their sparkling.

Once one cut was complete Doppelganger leaned back and stretched his cramped and stiff joints out as best he could. Jazz chirred softly and he muttered something vaguely reassuring. He tilted his helm, considering the infrared image of the pipe combined with the one his scanners created. Unfortunately the metal apparently was not made with this type of situation in mind; it was insulated, thereby making a blindspot on the IR. With a frustrated growl he switched back to normal optical mode and flipped on his lights, wincing at the sudden change.

With a hiss of hydraulics he leaned forward again, "Cutting behind you now Jazz."

The sparkling twittered, apparently quite distressed by this whole "rescue mission." The mech set back to work, meticulous and patient as ever. There were no more incidents and Doppelganger flawlessly made the remaining three cuts until all that held the pipe segment in place was a small sliver of metal. He paused and extended one claw out under the pipe before making the final cut. The metal piece clattered down loudly and was quickly followed by a tiny, squealing bundle.

Jazz plunked into the large claw and the squeals cut off, only for him to break into mad giggling a moment later. Doppelganger rolled his optics and picked up the metal piece, placing it on top of the utility pipe for whatever poor maintenance bot that had to clean up this mess.

Finally he turned his attention to Jazz.

At this point, most caretakers would gently but firmly remind their youngling that going on such escapades was inappropriate and should not be done again, though perhaps not in so many words. Of course, Doppelganger hardly qualified as "most caretakers."

"We'll have to work on your stealth, though your breaking and entering skills are quite advanced for your age. But youngling," at this point he tilted the sparkling's faceplates up to face his, "No matter where you hide, I will _always_ find you."

Jazz stared up at him for a moment then clicked sharply. The look in his young optics was one of a sparkling's determination and excitement at the prospect of a challenge. In that second, a competitive seed was planted and it forever became his goal to prove his caretaker _wrong._

* * *

"Move."

That was all the warning Everglade and Thunderhead got before a black blur dropped gracefully from the hole in the ceiling. Doppelganger landed in a crouch and stood up, rolling his neck cables calmly. Everglade nearly tackled him.

"Did you find him? Where is he? Primus help me Doppelganger, if-"

"He's right here," the mech interrupted, tapping a well-hidden storage compartment in his chest, "And he's recharging, perfectly fine."

With that he started off down the hall, bathed in the orange glow of the emergency lighting. Everglade looked stunned for a moment at the abrupt mannerisms of her colleague, though really she should have expected it. After a klik she hurried off after him, scowling all the way. Behind her, Thunderhead casually followed, chuckling at the free entertainment his job provided.

"Where are you going?" the femme snapped furiously.

Doppelganger just kept right on walking, "Prime's office. I have a proposition."

And despite her needling and pestering that was all he would say until they arrived at their leader's office. Doppelganger characteristically just strolled in unannounced and the other two followed suit. No use knocking if the party was already crashed.

Aqualus looked up from his datapads in surprise, a look that quickly morphed to apprehension, "Um…hello?"

Doppelganger didn't immediately respond besides opening a chest compartment and reaching in to fish out Jazz. Grasping the still groggy sparkling's scruffbar he pulled him out and dangled the little bundle in front of him.

"Can I keep it?"

There was a _long_ pause in which everyone tried to figure out what the frag he was saying and then with a shriek that was almost a whistle, Everglade asked the question that had formed in their minds.

"**_What?"_**

Doppelganger visibly twitched at the volume but remained calm, "I want to…take him under my tutorship. I was watching his progress and have to say, for one so young he shows incredible promise."

"For what?" Thunderhead wondered aloud.

"Special Operations."

Everglade gaped at him, "He is a _sparkling_ not some-some new recruit! And you absolutely are _not_ capable of caring for a _sparkling_!"

He shot her an immature sneer, "_I'm_ not the one who lost him."

Her engine snarled furiously, "Don't you _dare-_"

"Enough!" Aqualus broke in, rubbing his audios, "Doppelganger, I'll think about it," this got a victorious look from the mech, and an astounded one from the femme, "Everglade calm down and don't you even start with me. Thunderhead…what in Primus' name are you even doing here?"

The big bronze mech shrugged, "Free show, what can I say?"

* * *

_Lizard: _The Invasion _is a terrible movie, just saying. I'm going to have nightmares for weeks..._

_Anyways, uh...so yeah, chapter fin. Very long chapter, and the next one is very, very, very short, unless I extend it. Although having it prewritten has obviously done nothing for my update speed XP_

_And now, because I'm obviously not firing on all cylinders, I'm going to bed._

_Please leave a review? Flames will be used to burn _The Invasion_._

_LIZARD OUT_


	7. Best Friends

_Lizard: Yay! I'm back! I decided this had to go up because I'm going...mountaineering in like three days DX I'm not an athletic person..._

_Anyways, here you go with the next chapter, an Ironhide centric ;) Cuz he's a cute little fragger. This comes from the knowledge that young children go through a "best friend" phase when they're around four or five years old, where everyone and occasionally everything becomes their "best friend." _

_Also keep in mind that I've never thought of the Transformers as aging like humans do, so when I say Ironhide is around nine to eleven vorns, that's about five or so for humans. Maybe. I didn't think particularly hard about it._

_Dislcaimer: I own my OCs and the plot...thing, but nothing from Transformers._

* * *

"Riflet, why's he following me?" Ratchet whined, stomping into the medbay.

The CMO looked up mildly, "Who?"

"Ironhide, he won't leave me alone!" the youngling moaned, flinging himself onto a stool and automatically reorganizing the tools in the drawers.

"I don't see him now."

"Well yeah, Thunderhead took him away for some kind of lesson, but he keeps following me and wanting to play with me and I don't even _like_ him!"

A very dramatic youngling, he certainly knew how to put on a rather theatrical show.

"Ah, I see. I guess he would be about that age, wouldn't he?" Riflet mused, intentionally vague.

"What age?" Ratchet asked, looking suddenly quite worried.

"Oh, you know at about nine to eleven vorns, younglings go through the 'best friend' phase. It would appear that you are Ironhide's new best friend. Along with Clatter, Shock, Thunderhead, Lilt, Bassnote, his toys-"

"But I don't _like_ him!"

Riflet gave him a pointed look, "First of all, don't be so sulky, secondly, he likes _you_. You should be flattered," his optics flashed back to the tools in front of him and he added, "Get my surgical kit, there are mech's coming in from a skirmish."

Ratchet jumped off his stool and hurried to do as Riflet had asked, but continued talking as he went, "What am I supposed to do about it?"

"The skirmish?"

"No! _Ironhide_," the youngling growled.

"Oh, that," Riflet waved a hand, now thoroughly distracted, "Just go along with it, he'll grow out of it eventually. Now, where are my tools?"

"Hey, Ratch. D'ya wanna play?"

Ratchet groaned and looked down from his perch on a chair at the familiar red shape. Ironhide's optics were stretched wide in innocence as he held up a ball for the other to see.

"No, I'm reading, now go away," he said curtly.

There was a shuffling of pedes and after a moment Ratchet felt a presence next to him.

"What'cha readin'?"

Suppressing another groan, the red and white youngling turned his helm to see, sure enough, Ironhide trying to peer past his arm at the datapad in his hands.

"Grown up stuff. You can't read it," he snapped, blocking Ironhide's view.

The little youngling looked confused, "But yer not a grown-up…."

He was _still_ trying to look.

Ratchet rolled his optics, "Compared to you I am…what do you _want?_"

Ironhide stepped back and looked at him almost shyly, "Ah'm bored, 'n you're m' best friend. So d'ya wanna play?"

Ratchet stared at him, taking a moment to first comprehend what he had said through his accent and "youngling speak" combined, and then trying to comprehend _why_ he'd said it.

"How am I your best friend?"

Ironhide shrugged, then grinned, "I can stick out my glossa really far! Ya wanna see?"

Ratchet reset his optics, "What?"

In response, Ironhide demonstrated his new found talent, much to Ratchet's disgust.

"Okay, no. Don't do that," the older youngling growled, "Go play with someone else, I'm busy."

Ironhide frowned, but tottered off anyways, much to Ratchet's surprise. The white youngling shrugged it off though and went back to reading.

Ironhide, meanwhile, was on a mission. A mission…to find his best friend. Whoever that was. First stop: sparklings.

Jazz was being bounced on Riflet's knee as the medic organized his tools, so he was pulled from the running. And that narrowed it down nicely to just Prowl.

The black and white Praxian looked up curiously as he approached. Prowl had a small, three dimensional puzzle splayed in front of him, and a piece was in each hand as he chirped at Ironhide inquiringly.

"Hey Prowl. What'cha doin'?" the youngling asked while he crouched down for a closer look.

Prowl chirred and thought on this. Coming to a decision, he gave a click and set to work putting the puzzle together. Each piece was examined with utmost care before either being attached or set aside. He was finished in a matter of breems, much faster than should have been strictly possible. Seriously, weren't puzzles supposed to be hard? Though, admittedly, Prowl rarely kept to such low standards.

Plucking up the cube shaped puzzle depicting different Cybertronian heroes, Prowl carefully examined it, and then, apparently satisfied, set it aside held the cube up for Ironhide's viewing.

The youngling reset his optics and grinned, "Cool. Ya did that real fast!"

Prowl appeared pleased by this and set the completed puzzle down next to several others like it. Once again the sparkling gave a questioning chirp while he reached for the next puzzle box. Ironhide twisted his mouthplates.

"Nah, yer doin' just fine yerself," he shrugged.

Prowl mimicked the motion and trilled, going right back to his game.

Ironhide sighed and walked sullenly away. So, no to the sparklings. Who could he go to next. He thought about that for a few kliks before the light bulb went on over his little helm and, considerably brighter, he scampered across the medbay to one of the berths, ball firmly in his grasp. A limp, bright orange hand hung over the edge and Ironhide hesitated when he reached it. Thinking it over though, the hesitation passed and he tugged on the appendage.

A jerk ran through the previously lax arm and suddenly Ironhide found a hand wrapped around his scruff bar lifting him up over the med berth. Clatter peered at him through dimly lit, though amused, optics.

"What's up?"

Ironhide squirmed, "Do ya wanna play?"

The abnormally weary mech chuckled faintly, "I would, but Ol' Doc Rif won't let me right now, ya know?" At Ironhide's crestfallen expression he added, "But I'll make it up to you as soon as I'm outa here, alright?"

The youngling perked up a bit and nodded. Clatter grinned, bid him farewell, and lowered him back to the floor, but not before swinging him back and forth a couple times.

And thus Ironhide was once again on his mission. He sat down heavily where he had been placed, barely processing Clatter's fingers massaging his helm as he pondered his predicament. Who to play with, where to go, what to do, and how to do it? So little to do, so much time to do it in….As he sat, time passed, Clatter's hand fell limp again as he succumbed to the drugs in his system, Jazz tired of bouncing and opted to go annoy Prowl instead, Riflet made his rounds, Ratchet wandered off to help him.

Finally, just as Ratchet was sent out of the medbay for some supplies, inspiration struck.

"Doc Rif?"

Riflet looked away from his work and down at Ironhide's big blue optics.

"Yes 'Hide?"

The youngling shuffled his pedes, "C'n I go out?"

He pointed at the door, giving his best I'm-just-an-adorable-little-sparkling pout, and hoped for the best. Riflet paused. Usually, the younglings were not allowed to go anywhere unsupervised, what with them being on a warship and all (although admittedly Jazz certainly didn't care much about that particular rule).

"You can't go out alone, 'Hide," Riflet reminded gently, "If you're really bored, I can find out if anyone can take you though."

Ironhide grinned, "Okay!" and then, remembering his manners, "Thank you, Doc Rif!"

And he went off to wait.

Several seemingly endless breems later, none other than Shock strolled into the 'bay. He calmly looked over at his incapacitated friend, but most of his attention was immediately focused on Ironhide.

"Hey there, lil' buddy!" he greeted, crouching down, "You want to go visit the Prime?"

Ironhide jumped up, "Yeah!" then, concerned he added, "But what 'bout you?"

The explosives specialist laughed, "No worries, I've got a few breems but then I have some work to do. I can take you to Prime's office though."

Ironhide thought about it, weighed his options carefully, and then nodded, holding up his hand for Shock to take. The large, battle-grade mech had to lean a bit awkwardly to hold said hand, but he didn't complain. And so they set off. By the time they reached Aqualus' office, Ironhide had been placed on Shock's shoulders, and Shock was officially late for monitor duty. Saying hello to _every. single. bot. _they passed may have had something to do with this.

Aqualus looked up in surprise when they entered, but his expression softened at the sight of the youngling.

"Well, hello there, young mech!"

Ironhide grinned broadly, "Hi sir!"

Shock hefted him off his shoulders and swung him down onto the Prime's desk.

"Special delivery for the Prime!" the mech announced, bowing deeply.

Aqualus snorted, "Thank you, Shock, you are dismissed."

Shock jerked back to standing ramrod straight and snapped of a salute, though the "professional" affect was lost in his playful grin. Snapping around in an abrupt about-face, he started to march out, very, very slowly.

"Shock," the mech turned back innocently, "You're already late, quit lagging."

The mech's systems chirred sulkily, but he spun around and jogged off. Aqualus was now free to focus on his charge.

"So, 'Hide, you want to make rounds with me?" he asked, grinning.

"Yeah!" the red youngling shouted bouncing up and down.

Rounds with Aqualus were considered a big treat for the younglings. It was a chance to be "important." So naturally, this was very exciting to the little mech.

The big Prime rumbled in amusement, rising to his pedes, "Well you just got here but it looks like I'm just going to have to cart you off again. Primus kid, you just can't catch a break can you?"

He huffed wearily and Ironhide giggled, holding up his arms, "That's okay, let's go!"

Aqualus grinned and picked him up, depositing the youngling on one, large shoulderplate.

They left the room and walked through the hallways playing "I'm processing a mechanoid," then moved on to a few songs like "99 cubs of 'gon on the wall" and such, before finally shifting gears to make-believe, run entirely by Ironhide. It was the ultimate playtime in the youngling's mind. Of course, they paused periodically so Aqualus could do his work, speaking to officers, receiving reports, the works, but Ironhide used these stops to ask whoever was there if they wanted to play. The answer was always the same.

"Not right now, youngling, I've got too much work," Everglade.

"Can't now, little one. Maybe later," Thunderhead.

"Sorry buddy, too much goin' on," Bassnote.

"No," Doppelganger.

And every other variation.

The youngling wasn't too worried by this, however because Aqualus was more than happy to entertain him for a joor. Whenever he had time, the Prime was a favorite playmate because, frankly, he had no shame for such things. Childish games were by no means beneath him and he jumped and tangoed down the hallways as he was instructed to by Ironhide. They valiantly battled ferocious beasts, stealthily crept into enemy territory, and frantically jumped and scrambled over molten lava. Any odd looks they got were duly ignored.

This epic journey was cut short however, when they came to the medbay. Aqualus smiled apologetically and set him back on the floor, "Back to work, eh? We'll finish our adventure later."

He tapped the mournful youngling affectionately on the helm, nodded at Riflet, and was gone.

"Did you have fun, Ironhide?" Riflet asked, still working on something….weird looking.

"Yeah…," the youngling scuffed his pedes and then dropped onto his skidplate, "But now ah'm bored."

Riflet made an odd choking buzz and had to reset his vocalizer. When he managed to speak again, his amusement, though not well hidden by any means, was invisible to the youngling.

"Well that's too bad 'Hide, guess you'll have to find someway to entertain yourself, huh?"

Ironhide vented sorrowfully, "Ah guess so."

He walked off dejectedly, not noticing Riflet hide his faceplates behind his hand and shake in silent mirth.

Ratchet, meanwhile, had enjoyed this past joor immensely. He had read in peace, then moved on to helping Riflet, done inventory, and was now getting ahead in his lessons. This happy moment was soon interrupted, though, by a tap on his side plating.

Slowly, the white youngling turned around to meet two wide, innocent, blue optics.

"Hey, Ratch. D'ya wanna play?"

* * *

_Lizard: I think we're getting close to the end of Prowl and Jazz's tiny-sparkling years (er...vorns...), so a milestone chapter will be coming up. Milestone chapters a chapters that mark some important milestone in the younglings (usually Prolw and Jazz since they're the youngest) lives, whether it's a developemental milestone, or some big event from their younglinghood._

_Thanks for reading! I believe the next chapter will have some special guests ;) so be on the look out for that!_

_LIZARD OUT_


	8. Orncare

_Lizard: O_o_

_I'm not dead. I just had...five months of severe writer's block over what ended up being about three sentences of material -_- That's a really really long time, I don't think I've ever had it that bad. But I forced myself to get past it because I'm leaving for the other side of the planet in like three days and didn't want to leave you hanging for another three weeks before I come back!_

_Eh, this chapter has a bunch of guest appearances, and frankly it is very unlikely that they would all ever meet at this time, but it's fun to write them all together ;) Remember, Cybertronians age differently than humans as well, so age differences might not be as big or small as you think._

_I apologize for any typos or mistakes of some other kind, especially missing g's, h's, or z's, cuz those keys are being spazzy._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. I'm making no money from this, just playing with the characters!_

* * *

"Come on Ratch, it'll be fun!" Riflet encouraged.

The red and white youngling glowered, "Nu-uh, you're making me spend the entire orn with a bunch of stupid sparklings, how is that fun?"

The medic's systems whirred slightly and he resisted the urge to roll his optics.

"There will be other younglings too, and I think there's even a fledgling who helps watch them all," Ratchet looked unimpressed, "Just try, okay?"

His charge continued to glare for a klik before slumping in defeat with a mopey pout, "Fine, but don't expect me to like it."

Rif relaxed and grinned, "Wouldn't dream of it, now let's get going, we're already late."

He waved the youngling ahead of him as they exited the medbay. It was a short walk to the docking bay, but with Ratchet dragging his pedes the whole way it took a bit longer than normal. Finally, Rif just grabbed the youngling's scruffbar, hoisted him over his shoulder, and continued on his way, ignoring the loud protests from his burden.

"Rif! There you are!" Everglade's voice floated from across the bay, "Are you ready?"

The bulky medic nodded at her and strode over to join her, "Me? Sure. Him?" he indicated the struggling bundle still slung over his shoulder, "Not so much."

She trilled lightly. Prowl was held tightly in the crook of one arm and Ironhide bounced on her shoulders. Behind her Doppelganger stepped through one of the many doorways, reading some datapad and resolutely ignoring the tiny sparkling who was happily exploring his shoulder plating.

"Hey Jazz!" Everglade called, and his little helm snapped up to look at her, "You ready to make some new friends?"

Jazz may not have been able to speak yet, but he could understand quite a bit, and if there was one word he knew all too well, it was "friends." With an ecstatic shriek he all but dove off Doppelganger's shoulder. The tall mech caught his charge without looking and extended the wriggling mass of limbs to the lavender femme. Jazz chattered excitedly and clamped onto Prowl who whined loudly.

Everglade just gave a soft thrum and turned to Rif, who had finally set the sulky Ratchet down, "Well, let's go!"

She, with her three passengers, led Rif and Ratchet down the ramp and into the large docking station. A quick walk down several brightly lit halls brought them to their destination, a small lounge area, and the docking stations impromptu babysitting service. It was well lit with a few basic furnishings. It wasn't in the best of shape, with some cracks and dents in the smooth surface of the metal walls, but it was well sparkling-proofed. Rif and Everglade just hoped that counted as Jazz-proofed.

Here it was that they met with their younglings' new playmates-for-the-cycle.

A moderately sized green and white mech stood near the front of the room and turned at the sound of their arrival. He nodded respectfully and thumped his fisted hand over his spark in a salute.

"At ease, mech," Everglade hummed, "Mind if we drop off a few more?"

He relaxed his posture and grinned, "Not a problem. I'll be in and out most of the time, but Kup here is pretty good at the whole sparkling-sitting bit."

He indicated a grey and light blue fledgling mech, most likely on the verge of his final frame, who was currently trying to control a wildly squirming little royal blue sparkling.

Riflet snickered, "So it seems. Are these all you're expecting?"

The mech nodded, "Yep, including our own two there, it's eleven. Actually a fairly normal size. Hey there little guy," he added, seeing a pair of huge blue optics peering at him from behind one of Everglade's arms.

Whatever he had expected, it probably wasn't the ecstatic squeal and attempted launch at his face Jazz provided. Everglade caught him before he could get too far, but the mech still jumped back in surprise.

She winced, "I'm sorry, he's very…excitable."

The mech laughed a bit, "No worries, we've already got another like that over…there."

He pointed at a little black and purple sparkling with…wings?"

Everglade's optics widened, "Seekerlings?"

The mech grinned, "Yep, three. They're thinking it looks like a trine. Pretty young, but I guess that's a good sign."

Finally giving up her battle with the younglings, Everglade leaned over and deposited her burdens on the floor. Looking back at the squirming purple seekerling she took notice of the other two. One was mostly a deep blue and loomed over the other two by at least a helm, making him apparently the eldest, though still younger than Ironhide. He seemed to be trying to stop the purple one from attacking the newcomers. Behind them a tri-colored red, white and blue sparkling watched the tussle with mild interest.

"I'm guessing the oldest is the trine leader?" she ventured.

The mech twisted his mouthplates, "They aren't quite sure just yet, but I think they're actually leaning towards that one there, the pouty one," he indicated the tri-colored seekerling, "They, their creators, say he's a smart little guy, kinda drags the other two along."

Prowl tugged at Everglade's leg armor and whined. She cycled her vents and leaned over to pull him away.

"And all the others?" Riflet continued the conversation.

The mech nodded, "The little blue one Kup is…controlling is our other resident, Soundwave. Skywarp, Thundercracker and Starscream are the seekerlings, Wheeljack is…behind the couch, and that is Orion Pax."

Both officers perked up at this, "The one the council expects to be a Prime, right?" Riflet inquired.

He nodded, looking fondly at the little blue and white mech who sat shyly in the corner, "I guess his spark has the right energy. He's a cute little guy, shy as they come," he looked back to his superiors, "Would you like me to show you the supply rooms?"

Everglade smiled and nodded, "That would be most help—"

A wail cut her off as Prowl latched instantly onto her leg. The femme started at the sudden display of attachment and vented, kneeling down to slowly detach the desperate sparkling. Ironhide was shuffling his pedes and looked unsure how to proceed, and Jazz seemed overcome with wonder. In fact, he almost looked as though he believed he was dreaming, because surely this was too good to be true.

"Prowl, sweetie, you're going to be fine. I'll be back soon, just go have fun," Everglade encouraged, peeling him off and turning him around.

He clicked in agitation and tried to get back to her. Before the femme could react, however, there was a flash of purple light, a blur, and an alarmed squeak from Prowl as he suddenly found himself in a crushing hug.

Everglade reset her optics, "Ah…so that's why he's called Skywarp."

"Yep."

They stared for a moment longer at the seekerling as he hugged and rubbed his helm against a shell-shocked Prowl, purring all the while. Then, in an unspoken agreement, they beat a hasty retreat out of the room.

This left one fledgling, three younglings, and seven sparklings alone and in an enclosed space…..

CRASH!The sound of one sparkling tackle hugging another was surprisingly loud. Of course, Jazz was oblivious and just continued to squeeze Orion's side. The youngling looked startled and hesitantly patted the sparkling on the helm. And thus, orn-care began.

"Okay, Skywarp, let go of…uh, what's his name?" Kup looked to Ratchet.

"Prowl," the youngling provided.

Kup nodded, kneeling to try and pry off the seekerling, "Yeah, let go of Prowl, Skywarp."

The moment one servo touched his back, Skywarp's optics flashed back online and he yanked Prowl closer, causing the other sparkling to squeal in alarm. Kup jerked back as the seekerling hissed.

"Ooooo…kay? Creepy sparkling."

Ratchet watched with a sort of disdain until he caught sight of a familiar look on Prowl's faceplates, "Uh-oh."

Kup looked up sharply, "What-oh?"

The youngling pointed, "He's gonna bite."

Sure enough, Prowl's little faceplates were scrunched up in fury and he was frantically squirming and craning his neck around in an attempt to nip his assailant.

Kup groaned and moved to get the obnoxious seeker away when from across the room came a loud squeak, a sound not unlike that made by those squeaky toys Ratchet had seen Jazz play with. The little purple and black seeker looked up, then visibly deflated and with a whine released his captive. He instantly disappeared in a flash of purple light and reappeared next to the tri-colored seekerling, who was responsible for the noise.

"That was…weird," Ratchet muttered.

Kup nodded in agreement, "They do that."

A yelp sounded, revealing that Jazz had moved onto his next target, and Orion, now freed, bounded over to the couch. Peering behind it at the source of the yelp, a frown could be seen across his faceplates.

"What is it, Orion?" Kup called, "Did he get 'Jack?"

Orion nodded and disappeared for a moment, before coming back out, carefully holding a squirming Jazz. He set the little sparkling down, patted him on the helm, and stood back. Jazz chirred at him and quickly bounded away. Orion carefully watched, apparently taking up the roll as "glomp police" for the orn. Ratchet's attention was torn from this, however, at an alarmed shout from Kup.

"Soundwave! Get down from there!"

The red and white youngling jumped and spun around, looking up to see the royal blue sparkling from before. And he was looking up because the sparkling and somehow climbed all the way to the top of a very high datapad case and was currently looking down at them with a disturbingly joyous expression.

"Soundwave, don't you dare-" Kup never finished his sentence as with a delighted sparkling-sized whoop, Soudwave flung himself off the case.

Kup yelped and dove to catch him just a klik before he crashed into the ground. Completely unaware of the danger he had just put himself in, Soundwave giggled madly, and, easily sliding out of Kup's grip, ran off again. The fledgling vented and dropped his helm against the floor, still sprawled out from his sliding dive, then turned his faceplates to the youngling standing wide-opticed to the side.

"He thinks he can fly," he muttered in explanation.

Slowly the fledgling rolled over and sat back up Ratchet reset his optics.

"He thinks…he can fly?"

Kup nodded, "Yep. I have no fragging clue why. I should really just let him fall sometime…..weren't there four of you?"

Ratchet quirked an optical ridge, "Yeah…?"

"…where's the little red one?"

The youngling started and looked around. Sure enough, there was no sign of Ironhide. Jazz was making his rounds and glomping everyone, being carefully pulled off by the ever-patient Orion, and Prowl had retreated under a chair, sulking about being attacked by Skywarp, but Ironhide had disappeared. This was worrying.

"I dunno," Ratchet muttered, looking around nervously.

"Well, he didn't leave," Kup said calmly, standing up, "So….Oh no. Uh, Wheeljack, what're you doing?"

There was a pause.

"Nothing."

Kup scowled, "Wheelj-"

Boom!

Smoke poured from behind the couch and two small figures scampered away. The three seekerlings all bolted to the other side fo the room, huddling together with wide optics, and Jazz launched himself at Ratchet's leg, clinging to it for dear life.

"Wheeljack…," Kup started, and a small white and green youngling (or at least, he used to be green and white…) turned around slowly to face him, "What—"

He didn't manage to finish as he had suddenly found himself the target of the most perfectly executed puppy-dog face ever in the history of sentient life. Huge azure optics, the epitome of pure, adorable innocence, stared at him from faceplates smeared with soot, and everything about his posture just screamed, "I'm just a cute, sweet little youngling! Please love me!"

Kup muttered something incoherent, no match for the power of the puppy-pout, waving for the youngling to go away and grabbing his helm in exasperation. Ironhide, also sooty, suddenly let out a slightly hysterical sounding giggle.

"That was so cool!" he exclaimed, bouncing excitedly on his pedes.

The other youngling, looking to be older than Thundercracker but younger than Ironhide, perked up at this and clasped his hands.

"Really? Ya think so?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah! Do it again!" Ironhide encouraged.

"No! No more exploding!" Kup yelled, not looking for fear of 'The Look', "Do something else, Wheeljack!"

The youngling frowned and kicked his pedes, but only for a klik before something else caught his attention, "Okay!"

With that he bounced off to one of the cracks in the wall and Ironhide bounced along behind him. Ratchet, having watched the entire incident in alarm, looked down at Jazz who was still clung to his leg. The sparkling stared back up at him and chattered, looking a bit shell-shocked.

Cycling his vents in a long-suffering whoosh, Ratchet staggered over to a chair by the wall and hopped up on it, then pried a stiff Jazz off. With a little clink the mechling was dropped into his lap. Jazz was quiet a moment then whined and turned around, gazing sorrowfully up at Ratchet's face.

"What?" he snapped.

Jazz pouted and pointed at the floor.

"Oh, now you want down?" the youngling rolled his optics, "Fine, here."

He scooped up the tiny mech, leaned over and plopped him back down on the floor, only to feel pressure on his leg again a klik later. He jerked forward in surprise, peering down to find Jazz once again attached to his leg and staring up with huge optics. Ratchet reset his optics then collapsed back into the chair.

He turned his helm to the side to view the chair next to him. The little tri-colored seekerling tilted his helm to meet to look evenly and with surprising dignity as his black and violet trine mate clambered all over both him and the chair. Matching looks of subdued frustration and annoyance were on their faceplates and as one they turned back to the room with resigned huffs.

It was going to be a long orn….

Chaos. Complete and utter chaos. It was the only way to describe the scene of eleven young Cybertronians running rampant through the makeshift "orncare."

Ratchet had found a kindred spirit in the seekerling Starscream, and they sat watching the madness in companionable silence with the air of those who know they are surrounded by idiots. And they weren't the only ones to buddy up. Skywarp and Jazz, being such intelligent little tykes, had learned the meaning of the word "teamwork" and were using it to their full advantage. Their primary target? Orion Pax, who bore the excess attention with dignified, and almost self-sacrificing patience. Thundercracker, being the responsible young mech he was, had taken it upon himself to try and help out the poor little guy.

And of course there was Ironhide and Wheeljack. As promised, there were no ore explosions. Instead there were electrical shocks, power bumps, smoking, flashing lights, small flames, and Primus-only-knew what else, but no explosions. Yet. But Kup couldn't really worry about that right now because he had another problem.

"No, Soundwave, get down! I mean it….okay, can you at least jump towards me?"

The blue sparkling tilted his helm in consideration for a moment before shaking his helm with a gleeful "Nuh-uh" and diving off the opposite side of the case. Kup yelped a leapt, very nearly knocking over the case and barely catching the dare devil sparkling. The fledgling released a whoosh of air from his vents and rolled up to a sitting position, gripping Soundwave tightly.

Wearily he observed the room. Orion Paz had finally been left alone and was surprisingly interacting with Wheeljackc and Ironhide who were…actually Kup didn't really want to know what they were doing or whether it was going to blow up. Ratchet and Starscream were glaring at the world in general. Thundercracker had taken to watching Jazz and Skywarp who were….chasing each other….at the same time.

Currently his attention was drawn back to his most pressing problem. Soundwave struggled in his arms, whining angrily.

"Seriously, someday no one's going to be able to catch you. What will you do then?" Kup demanded.

Soundwave froze for a moment and at first Kup thought perhaps he had finally gotten through to sparkling. Until, that is, said sparkling stuck out his glossa rudely and returned to his escape efforts with renewed vigor, finally slipping from his captors grasp and running off. Kup just let him run, he was accustomed to the sparkling's obnoxious antics, it was these visitors he was more worried about.

As though they had just read his mind and decided to prove his worries were legitimate, Skywarp and Jazz abruptly changed activities. This change was brought on by Jazz spotting a familiar pair of bright blue optics glaring out at them. Of course, to Jazz this was a suggestion to go and glomp Prowl, and who was he to deny the other sparkling such a wonderful gift? So he took off across the floor towards his bestest friend in the whole wide universe. At first Skywarp was confused , but then he saw the optics and with a happy chirp he followed Jazz.

Prowl was not pleased with this development. Now he needed a plan, and he needed one fast. Generally he would growl or bite, but the stupid sparkling was not deterred by such tactics. It was time for a new course of action. Something brilliant, something like….

With a wild shriek Prowl exploded from under the couch and charged full tilt across the room. Jazz and Skywarp didn't even slow down as the altered their course and continued to hurtle after him. They all tripped more than a few times in this bizarre high speed chase, but somehow Jazz and Skywarp were gaining on the tiny Praxian. Prowl squealed angrily at his predicament, and in a flash of desperation, he leapt at the datapad case and started scrambling up at a remarkable pace.

Jazz and Skywarp both skid to a halt, simultaneously falling back on their skidplates to stare up at their prey's hasty retreat. With single-minded perseverance Prowl made it all the way to the top and plunked down to rest his humming engine. He felt briefly victorious and safe until he realized he was not alone. With deliberate slowness, the sparkling turned his helm to meet the stare of the little royal blue sparkling.

Kup had watched this entire event with bewildered silence, up until this point. Because at this point, he could see exactly what was going through Soundwave's thought process. It was something like: Wings…Seekers have wings…Seekers fly…new sparkling has wings…so sparkling must fly!

And with that thought he gleefully pushed Prowl off the case. Kup watched in horrified fascination, glued to his spot as Orion Pax charged across the room to rescue the plummeting sparkling.

He really couldn't wait to take off to the Academy…..

By the end of the orn, the officers of the Retra were finished with the duties such stops as this one required. Only one job remained and Thunderhead had been given the honor of performing said task. The door to the docking station's make shift orncare slid open smoothly….

"I'm here for-" he started, but a chaotic flurry of motion cut him off.

"Here! Take them! Get them away!" a fledgling mech shouted, shoving all his "charges" forward, "I don't care which ones are yours, just take them all!"

Thunderhead reset his optics and looked down at the motley crew of sparklings and younglings, all looking up at him with varying degrees of apprehension, awe, curiosity, and please-get-me-out-of-here expressions.

"Uh…what?" he asked oh-so-eloquently.

"Get them out of here! They're maniacs, maniacs I tell you!" the fledgling shrieked.

Thunderhead looked up and finally took notice of the scraped chest plates, chipped servos, and many other dents, scratches and breaks marring the young frame. He had seen mechs come back from battle in better shape.

"I can only take ours," he said slowly, slightly disturbed by the fledgling's twitching optic.

"THEN TAKE THEM!"

"Okay, okay!" he held up his hands in a placating manner and looked down at the perfectly quiet crew.

He quickly picked out his targets, but not where he expected. Ironhide was bouncing on his pedes between two other younglings, one white and green, the other blue and red and all three were covered in soot and grinning hugely. Ratchet, who looked none-too-pleased at being sent here, had acquired a partner-in-moping, a tiny red, white, and blue seekerling who glared at Thunderhead. None of this was nearly so surprising as the fact that Prowl was clinging to someone other than Everglade. Really. He was hiding behind the tall blue and red youngling and peering fearfully around them at a small royal blue mechling.

"Um…Ratch, 'Hide, Jazz, and Prowl, let's go little ones," he managed.

Ratchet was next to him instantly, Ironhide pouted a bit but trotted over, waving at his two new friends, and Jazz looked up from comparing pedes with the violet seekerling. Naturally he squealed in delight and jumped up, toddling over as fast as he could and holding his arms up. Prowl, meanwhile, scuttled around the royal blue sparkling with as wide a berth as he could before launching at his current caretaker and clinging to his heavily armored leg.

Thunderhead leaned down to pick up the two sparklings, one in each arm, and straightened to see the door already closed again. Once more he looked down at his charges: one fragged off Ratchet, on sooty and smiling Ironhide, one gleeful Jazz (not unusual) and one completely traumatized Prowl.

"Well," he said slowly, "You guys sure do know how to make an impression, huh?"

* * *

_And so Prowl became forever loyal to Optimus, and his eternal rivalry with Soundwave was born..._

_I really am sorry for the delay, I wasn't happy with the way I originally had this chapter written and it took me forever to fix it. The next chapter, though, I am happy with :) It'll still be a while because I'm in India for three weeks, but hopefully it won't be as long as last time._

_Next chapter is our first transition chapter! Be sure to look for it!_

_LIZARD OUT_


	9. Transition 1: First Words

_Lizard: Uh...well...this is embarrassing._

_I went to India, was there for three weeks, came back, took forever to get back into the swing of things and have just now returned to the world of writing fanfics. -_- Totally my bad. Sorry bout that. At least it wasn't as long as last time._

_Anyways, this is our first transition chapter! Yay! It is, unfortunately, very OC heavy, but this is the last chapter that will focus on them so much. You shall see why ;) For the first section we hop back to before the arrival of Prowl and Jazz to when Ironhide was an adorable little sparkling. Then we hop back to our present location in the story._

_And now...the return of Clatter and Shock O.o_

_Disclaimer: I own my OCs and the little plot...thing. Nothing recognizable is mine._

* * *

In Cybertronian society, a sparkling's first word was a momentous occasion. Not only did it show progress in the young one's cognitive development, alerting caretakers to the need for an upgrade to their next frame soon, but it also was frequently used to help foretell what final upgrade they would receive. It was a glimpse into their processors that indicated the function they would later take upon themselves, and thus caretakers and creators listened intently for that first, carefully spoken string of syllables and sounds that made up a first word.

"Aw, c'mon! I'm not totally irresponsible!"

"Shock, you're asking to take a sparkling to the explosives range."

"So? I'm not taking him in, just letting him see a small bomb go off. What's wrong with that?"

"The bomb part. Plus you."

Shock let out a loud whine from his systems and pouted at his superior officer. Everglade didn't flinch, her professional mask firmly in place. For many, this was intimidating. For Shock (and Clatter) it was just routine.

"One little bomb isn't gonna corrupt is little processor," he argued, blatantly whining.

"Perhaps not, but you most certainly will."

"Hey!"

"It's true though," Clatter pointed out rather unhelpfully from where he was lying flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling for no apparent reason, "If it makes you feel better ma'am, I can go along to supervise."

Silence.

"Clatter, you're an idiot."

"I'd sooner send a rock."

He shrugged, "You're loss."

Shock just shook his helm and looked back at the second in command, "Look, I'll be careful, You can trust me."

He threw in some wide-opticed beaming and a charming smile for affect. Everglade was unmoved.

"I highly doubt that."

"Everglade…," he drew out the name in an obnoxious whine.

"No."

"But…Thunderhead! Sir, come here!"

The titanic bronze mech froze midstep as he passed the door, scouring his processor for something, anything to get him out of whatever it was their explosives specialist wanted. Alas, he came up with zilch.

"Yes Shock?" he asked, resigning himself to his fate as he trudged over.

The light green mech smiled the most terrifying smile Thunderhead had ever seen, "You believe in a well-rounded education for little 'Hide, right?"

Alarms went off in both officers' processors.

"Yes…," Thunderhead slowly, cautiously agreed.

"And part of a well-rounded education is received by observing one's environment, right?"

"I…suppose?"

"So it stands to reason that a sparkling on a battle cruiser should be allowed to observe some of the jobs on said cruiser, right?"

Silence.

Finally Thunderhead spoke hesitantly, "That really depend on what-"

"Class E3 gyro-directed motion sensitivity explosive with A59 as the chemical catalyst and a basic 776b chemical trigger."

Both clatter and Everglade had absolutely no idea what any of that entailed, but Thunderhead actually seemed interested.

"E3, huh?" he looked thoughtful.

Everglade gaped, "Thunderhead!"

"What? E3 is a low scale explosive. Made for distractions. Not too loud, more flash than anything, and overall just a pretty light show. Who knows, the kid might actually like it!"

The femme stared in disbelief, the scowled, "I disagree."

"'Glade, I'll go with them. And while his logic is obviously flawed, it's not going to hurt anything. If it causes problems, I give you full permission to brig us for the next megacycle."

"Yea-wait what?" Shock nervously turned to his commanding officer.

Everglade growled slightly, "I don't need your permission."

She stalked out, leaving two maniacs and Thunderhead. He looked warily at the notorious duo.

"Where is the little 'bot?"

Clatter easily rolled to his pedes, "Explosives range with Lilt. Shock told her to meet him there."

A dark glare fixed on the explosives expert as his friend obliviously threw him under the triple changer.

"What? So I'm confident in my abilities, sue me."

* * *

"Thanks Lilt!" Clatter called loudly down the hall, then added (quieter) as he ducked into the explosives range observation deck, "Nice femme."

Shock nodded, "Yep, little gullible though."

"So are you."

"Am not!"

"Sure… hey Shock, look! There's a distraction!"

"Huh?"

As Clatter burst out laughing, Thunderhead gave Shock an incredulous look, "You actually looked?"

Shock glowered at his still cackling friend, "No!...Well yes, but in my defense I'm a little preoccupied."

He pointed at the gleeful sparkling he was holding.

Ironhide giggled as he was bounced up and down while Shock paced back and forth in the small observation deck. The mech occasionally tapped a few keys as he passed until Clatter swooped in, snatched the sparkling away, and tossed him in the air.

"Thanks," Shock chirped, turning his full attention to the console.

Thunderhead watched him closely, really not wanting Everglade to actually brig them if Shock decided to do something stupid.

"Alright! We're set!" the explosives specialist announced, waving Clatter over with Ironhide.

Clatter trotted up next to him, making faces at little 'Hide, much to the sparkling's delight.

Shock stole the little one back and flipped around to face the large explosives proof windows, "Guess what, little buddy? We're gonna see something go boom!" he fanned his free hand out and made motions to illustrate, "Isn't that cool? Boom!"

Ironhide looked absolutely fascinated by this and Shock laughed and pointed at the window. His passenger turned to look just as Shock hit the detonate button. Just like Thunderhead had stated, it was an impressive flash and nothing more than a low rumble could be heard. Or at least, the would have heard it, had Ironhide not screamed his helm off.

All three jumped, then froze, suddenly terrified that Everglade may have actually been right—horror of horrors—until they saw 'Hides faceplates. With the biggest smile he had ever made he continued to shriek ecstatically and clap his hands together. Shock's faceplates split into a victorious grin.

"Told ya he'd like it!" he crowed.

Their celebrating stopped, however, when Ironhide made a new and very distinct series of sounds….

"Boom! Boom, boom, boom, boom," he chattered in a sing-song tune.

All three mechs gaped for a klik, until clatter let loose a triumphant whoop.

"Eat that, Everglade!"

* * *

It was custom on the Retra to leave the little sparklings and younglings in the care of the ship's most capable caretaker, Riflet. Thus they were dropped off at the beginning of each cycle by Everglade, who would then proceed to her own place of work, and everyone was happy.

Or, that was the theory.

"Prowl, sweetie, I can't hold you right now," Everglade reminded, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice.

The little sparkling whined and tugged at her shin plating. Riflet watched in vague amusement as she tried to step carefully away without hurting him.

"Why don't you just take him for the day. Poor kid is so clingy anyways, you might as well keep him for a little longer."

Everglade vented and caved, picking up the fussy little one, "Fine, we'll sort this out later. I have something to take care of soon anyways."

Riflet grinned and waved as they left, "Good luck!"

And so that was how the Autobot 2iC came to go through the orn with one arm writing reports, scheduling shifts, and dishing out punishments while the other arm held a perfectly content sparkling.

"Hi ma'am!" Clatter chirped, bouncing into her office about halfway through the cycle, with Shock strolling along behind.

The femme looked up from her datapad a the two innocently grinning mechs, a sure sign that they were in trouble. Again.

"What did you do?"

Both looked offended and protested loudly. Prowl looked up from playing with a holo block at the two new arrivals. Clatter grinned at him and twitched one of the sensory panels on his helm. Prowl giggled.

"Clatter, Shock, tell me what you did or I will give you more severe punishment detail," Everglade ordered coolly, irritation lacing her tone.

A glance was exchanged and Shock stepped forward, "It involved a bucket, some kind of liquid, and the Evil One."

Everglade stared at them for a long moment before speaking, "Doppelganger is your superior, you will refer to him by his proper designation. Now, onto your…activities, you said some kind of liquid?"

Shock nodded, "Sticky liquid."

Clatter piped in, "You don't want to know."

"I see," the femme deadpanned, bringing up an internal display of rules and laws, "Insubordination, willful misuse of—Clatter stop it."

He shrank back, grinning sheepishly at her and stopped making faces at Prowl.

The femme cycled her vents, "Since we go through this so often, I think you know what rules have been broken. Two orns of monitor duty, separate. Once I get the actual report I will call you back to determine whether or not anything else needs to be done. Understood?" she gave them each a warning look.

Both mechs pouted, and Shock spoke for both of them, "One orn?"

"No. Two."

He opened his mouth again, and she gave him a withering look.

"No."

Clatter's systems whined, "But whyyyyyy? We didn't do anything that bad. And you know you want to get him too sometimes."

"No."

This time, everyone froze at the single word, because for once Everglade wasn't the one to say it. And neither were either of the two mechs. Slowly three sets of optics turned to the only other occupant of the room. Prowl stood on his little pedes, one hand fisted and set on his hip, the other pointing directly at Clatter. His faceplates mimicked Everglade's professional glare perfectly and he overall seemed completely oblivious to the looks he was getting.

Everglade was the first to regain her voice, "What was that Prowl?"

His hand dropped and he turned his innocent gaze up to her. Clatter hopped over and crouched in front of the sparkling with a grin.

"What did Everglade say about being bad?" he asked.

Prowl looked confused for a moment before grinning as he caught on, "No!"

"Yes! I mean…correct! And what does Doppelganger say about being good?"

"No!"

Clatter scooped him up and spun around, "So what do we say about it being bad to 'punish' the Evil One?"

"No!"

Prowl giggled as Clatter spun him around playfully. Shock grinned triumphantly at Everglade.

"See? Even Prowl agrees!"

She quirked an optic ridge, although much or her irritation had evaporated at Prowl's proclamation, "So it would seem."

She stood up, strode over, and plucked Prowl out of Clatter's arms, "Should I go easy on them, sweetie?"

"No!"

She nodded briefly, "Alright then, agreed. Three orns it is. Dismissed."

* * *

"You are the most irresponsible, unethical, arrogant mech I have ever met!" Everglade shrieked, storming into Doppelganger's office.

"And why's that?" he drawled, leaning back in his chair and absently playing around with some handheld puzzle block.

The seething femme stomped up to his desk, "How long has he been missing?"

"Not missing, exploring. It's good for him, and he's only been at it for about a joor."

"He isn't with a caretaker, therefore he is missing, Doppelganger!" Everglade hissed.

"That implies no one knows where he is, and I'm fully aware of his whereabouts," Doppelganger interrupted.

Everglade glowered, "Sparklings need to be properly supervised at all times, what if he hurt himself, or tried to ingest something he shouldn't?"

The Special Ops head rolled his maroon optics and flung open a drawer in his desk. Plucking something out of it's contents he tossed it at the femme.

"Turn it on," he instructed boredly.

She scowled but located the switch and flipped it on. The screen flickered to life and immediately displayed what appeared to be an in-depth diagram of the Retra's inner workings. A display flashed in the corner, a constant stream of Cybertronian text scrolling across it.

"Press the center button," Doppelganger continued.

She did, and the diagram spun and zoomed in to show a small blinking red dot.

"What is this?" Everglade growled.

He snorted and tapped one of his helm mounted sensors, "Tracking display synced to my systems. The dot's Jazz, he's in a low level utility pipeline, clear of all high voltage wires and any toxic material. The display in the lower-right corner is his stats, I know the klik anything even makes him giggle, which, by the way, happens quite frequently."

She glowered, "Where is he?"

Something, possibly amusement flashed by his optics, "It shows you right there."

Everglade gave him a thoroughly exasperated look, "I can't make helms or afterburners of this and you know it."

"Of course, I just wanted to hear you say it."

"Doppelganger!"

He winced and drew away slightly, rubbing his audios, "Please no shrieking, hurts like the Pit."

"Good!"

This time he stumbled back and his weapons systems automatically onlined with a whine. Screwing his faceplates in discomfort he held his claws over the delicate sensors, waiting for them to reboot as his optics bled into red.

When he could finally hear again it was his turn to glare, "Blowing my audios out isn't helping, and you interrupted the tracker's feed, which means he really was unsupervised for all of five kliks and it was your fault."

Everglade very nearly screeched at him again but managed to control her tone, "Doppelganger, get Jazz now, or I will brig you for the rest of your miserable existence."

He rolled his optics, finally powering down his weapons, "Fine but…," he trailed off, and a completely bewildered look came across his faceplates, before it shifted to one of horror, "Oh Primus…."

Everglade, naturally, panicked, " What? What is it? Primus help me, Doppelganger, if something happened…."

She cut off when he held up a claw and tapped his audio. Confused she turned up her own audial sensitivity. It was quiet, but finally she picked up the reason for his distress.

Passing directly over them, somewhere in the ceiling, someone was singing, "Sneaky, sneaky sneaky, Sneeaaaky, sneaky…."

Doppelganger moaned and covered his faceplates, "It speaks."

* * *

_Well there you have it. Probably wasn't worth the wait, but at least I updated! ...right?_

_Thanks for reading ya'll!_

_LIZARD OUT_


	10. Hatchet

_Lizard: ...Sometimes I'm ashamed of myself._

_Well, I honestly don't have an excuse, so I can say nothing but I'm terribly sorry for the wait. And that this is all you got -_-_

_I threw this together pretty quickly and it kind of wrote itself, and I hope it came out alright. Frog seemed to like it so...that's a good sign I suppose. Anyways, in this we will see the beginning of Ratchet's more responsible side (don't worry, he still has the capacity to get into plenty of trouble, as we shall see later...) and the true origin of his notorious nickname: The Hatchet! *cackles* I took some creative license here, but the idea was amusing to me ;)_

_And now...onward ho!_

* * *

Ratchet didn't like sparklings very much, as anyone with half a processor could see.

They were loud, obnoxious, messy, and needy. Personally, he didn't see much use to them besides the occasional amusement. They were overall just nuisances, though.

Now, he was a reasonable young mech (sometimes) and could admit that he was sometimes unfair to the little glitches. Perhaps they didn't deserve his ire or maybe it wasn't really _entirely_ their fault that they were so annoying. Yes, Ratchet could see that this was at times the case.

This, though, was not one of those times.

"Sneaky, sneaky, sneeeeeaky, sneaky! Sneeeea...KEY!"

"Jazz! Be _quiet!_"

The sparkling just giggled at this exciting new game and continued to joyously sing his favorite word. Actually, it was the only word he had said, as of yet, and at this rate it may be the only one he _ever_ said. Especially if Ratchet got h is hands on the little pit-spawn.

He was _trying_ to finish the lesson Riflet had given him, but so far wasn't having much luck. These organic biology studies were the hardest, and he could never figure out why in the universe it would ever be important for him to know this stuff, but he was at least trying. The key word being _trying_, as Jazz was currently doing a marvelous job of being a tremendous distraction.

"Jazz!" Ratchet abruptly spun around on his stool at a particularly piercing note in Jazz's composition, "I need you to stop singing!"

"SNEAKY!"

Where were the good old days when Jazz only used his mouth to try and eat random objects he found on the floor? Was his pede suddenly less appetizing? Were there not enough laser scalpel's to suck on?

Why not try and bite Prowl's doorwings again?

Actually, the idea of having a screaming Praxian sparkling on his hands again wasn't overly appealing, so scratch that last one.

"Ah don' think he's gonna stop," Ironhide commented, looking resigned to his fate of death by singing.

Prowl chirred grumpily, casting venomous glares at his gleefully oblivious nemesis. Ratchet just let his helm fall back against the wall behind him. He was sure this had to be some form of punishment. For what, he didn't know, but there was no way this was humane. Maybe if he locked the idiot in a closet...

"Ratchet make stop!" Prowl broke into his plotting with a drawn-out wine that made him cringe.

"I'm _trying_!" he growled, but the little one didn't look at all appeased, and a loud proclamation of "sneaky" made them both groan, "Jazz! _Shut **up**!_"

Silence.

Three wide sets of widely stretched optics fixed on the incensed youngling and he realized his mistake. His grave, grave mistake.

He had just said the _S_ word. And among sparklings, that was the unpardonable sin.

_Well frag._

"Ratchet...tha's a bad word," Ironhide very softly and slowly informed him.

Prowl just looked absolutely horrified and Jazz...uh-oh.

With his optics wider than should have been physically possible, the little mechling's lip components started to quiver. A little squeak came from his vocalizer, followed by more squeaks and buzz's until he was all out bawling. And as if that wasn't bad enough...Prowl joined him a klik later.

_And frag again..._

"N-no! I didn't...it's not...you...Ugh!" Ratchet threw his hands up and dropped off the stool, stomping over to the youngest of his charges.

Jazz continued to wail piteously even when Ratchet stooped to pick him up, settling the little one in the crook of his arm. Ratchet then continued over to Prowl and crouched in front of him. It was time to set a good example, as Riflet said.

"Jazz, Prowl, I'm sorry I said a bad word. Jazz I'm sorry I yelled at you. Do you forgive me?" Well that was painful.

But it seemed to work nonetheless. Prowl stopped his crying rather quickly and, with only a couple more clicks and squeaks, nodded his acceptance of the apology.

Jazz was a little less subtle. Still wailing, he launched himself up from the careful arms and latched onto the older youngling's neck. Here he started to babble nonsense, apparently explaining everything that was upsetting him in exhaustive detail. Ratchet was sure it would have been fascinating if he could understand it.

So, since he was on this brief stint as a patient and responsible mech, he decided to continue behaving out of character and gently rubbed the little one's back panels. He thrummed his engine in a comforting rhythm like Riflet used to do for him and sat back down on the stool. Slowly, Jazz got everything out of his system and started to calm down. Ratchet managed to do a bit more of his assignment one handed as the other supported his now appropriately quiet charge, and Ironhide and Prowl returned to their respective forms of entertainment.

It was...peaceful. For once.

"Hatchet."

Until it wasn't.

Jazz had perked up from nearly dozing off and was looking intently at Ratchet's face.

"Hatchet," he repeated to seemingly nonsensical word more forcefully and Ratchet glanced in his direction.

"What are you trying to say?" he asked boredly.

Jazz gave him a mini-scowl, "Hatchet!"

It took a moment and then...click. He made the connection.

"Jazz...it's pronounced _Ratchet_."

"_Hatchet_."

"_Rrrrrr..._atchet."

"Hatchet!"

There was a giggle from the side, and Ratchet glanced over at Ironhide, who was watching with scarcely contained glee.

"What?"

Ironhide giggled again and waved, "Hi, Hatchet!"

Jazz beamed at this, "Hatchet!"

Ratchet glared, "Don't encourage him, 'Hide."

"Hatchet?"

Oh joy, now Prowl was in on it.

"Hatchet! Hatchet! Hatchet!" Jazz started bouncing up and down and patted Ratchet's faceplates.

Ratchet resisted the urge to yell and tried to get back to his work despite the distractions now running rampant yet again. That is until Jazz tapped him on the helm.

"Hatchet," he pointed down at the floor.

Ratchet rolled his optics and set the little one down. Jazz grinned happily up at him and before taking off to Primus-only-knew-where, he offered Ratchet one more proclamation, one that he would then proceed to turn into yet another song in celebration of his second word:

"Sneaky Hatchet!"

And that was the end of Ratchet's sanity.

* * *

_If it wasn't clear, Jazz at this point has a minor speech impediment. It shall correct itself with time ;) And he probably knows how to say plenty of words, but doesn't want to bother. Sneaky is plenty entertaining on its own._

_The next chapter...actually I'm not sure. It's either about 'Hide, or...not. O.o I should plan these things better..._

_Well...that's all for today! Thanks for reading!_

_LIZARD OUT_


End file.
